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SELECTIONS FROM CHAUCER 



INCLUDING HIS EARLIER AND HIS LATER 
VERSE AND AN EXAMPLE OF HIS PROSE 



EDITED WITH 

AN INTRODUCTION AND NOTES 
BY 

CLARENCE GRIFFIN CHILD, Ph.D., L.H.D, 

PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH IN THE UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA 



>>^< 



D. C. HEATH & COMPANY 

BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO 



Kp'^ Xa9 



Copyright, 191 2, 
By D. C. Heath & Co. 

I D 2 



/.;5- 



£!CI.A312678 



PREFACE 

This volume is not designed primarily for those who wish to use the 
text of Chaucer as an introduction to the study of Middle English, but for 
those who wish to read and enjoy his verse as literature. Such simple 
essentials of grammar and prosody are, however, provided as the teacher 
will desire to have in convenient form for reference. No course — even 
in English — should be made easy, except with the ease that comes, 
attended by a sense of triumph and delight, through the discipline of 
persistent effort. But, in the case of Chaucer, there is every reason for 
deferring more elaborate presentation of what will else seem unmean- 
ing and forbidding detail, until an awakened interest may serve to 
vitalize and humanize it. 

As the purpose of this volume is to illustrate Chaucer's genius, a wider 
range of selections is included than is usual in such volumes. The 
Canterbury Tales must be amply represented ; it is impossible to omit 
the Prologue^ Knighfs Tale, IVun's Pries fs Tale, Pardoner'' s Tale, and 
an example of the connecting narrative which forms the framework of 
the tales. Yet, assuredly, the student should not be allowed to form 
the impression, as so many do, that Chaucer was so much a man of one 
work that his others are negligible. Hence, part of one of his earlier 
long poems, the House of Fatne, and examples of his lyrics and prose, 
have been included. This wider range of selection will, it is believed, 
be welcomed. All the selections cannot, it is true, be read, except with 
undue rapidity, within the classroom in a single term. But opportunity 
is given for the teacher's own selection, and for varying more slow and 
careful reading by rapid sight reading and for the assignment of private 
readings as themes for appreciative essays. 

An experiment is tried in this volume which needs, perhaps, a word 
of explanation. Every one should begin the reading of Chaucer with 
the immortal Prologue. But it should be read, — not mulled over, — and 
here the obstacle arises that it offers special difficulty in that it contains 
so large a number of obsolete or unusual words and meanings. In this 
single selection, therefore, with which the student starts, glosses have 

iii 



iv PREFACE 

been added at the side of each line, doing away with the necessity of 
turning to the Glossary, It is hoped that this plan will recommend it- 
self as an aid to unobstructed understanding and enjoyment of the work 
as literature. It has the further advantage of awakening confidence in 
the student and encouraging him to read boldly, for pleasure, the selec- 
tions not provided with such aid. 

In the Notes^ the aim has been to confine comment to what is essen- 
tial and broadly illustrative, and to keep away from what is narrowly 
curious or erudite. The Glossary^ also, has been kept as simple as 
possible. To give the parts of speech in such a glossary is, or should 
be, superfluous ; and scattered etymological addenda are wholly profit- 
less. 

The writer wishes Godspeed to all those who enter the fellowship of 
those who love Chaucer through this little book ! 



CONTENTS 

Page 

Introduction vii 

The Prologue . i 

The Knightes Tale . .28 

Head-Link to Sir Thopas 97 

The Nonne Preestes Tale 98 

The Pardoner's Tale iii 

The House of Fame . . . 121 

A Tretis of the Astrolabie 143 

Chaucer's Words unto Adam His Owen Scryveyne . . 144 

To RosEMOUNDE: A Balade 145 

The Compleint of Chaucer to His Empty Purse . . .146 

Truth : Balade de Bon Conseyl 147 

Notes 149 

Glossary 193 



INTRODUCTION 

I. Why Study Chaucer? 

One studies Chaucer, in the first place, because every one who 
has in him the capacity to care for the brightness and beauty 
of the world,, and for varied aspects of life and human nature, 
moving and diverting, as noted by a most keen and sympathetic 
observer, as pictured with unfaiHng art by a poet of rare dramatic 
power, and as phrased in verse which is exquisite music, will be 
sure to love the poetry of Chaucer. 

This is the first and all-important reason. It is also worth while 
to find out how Chaucer came to be the great poet he was, to read 
of the many and different things he did in his busy life, to see how, 
learning from others, he became a master greater than they. 

These things will mean more to us if we first try to see how truly 
great he was and is, and in what way. We may do this if, putting 
aside other things for a moment, we see what one work of his, the 
Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, means to the world to-day. 

II. The Prologue To-day 

Over five hundred years ago Chaucer wrote the Prologue to the 
Canterbuty Tales, The poem still holds its place secure as a 
work of genius, and can be read for pure enjoyment. It will so 
be read five hundred years hence. Why is this? 

Suppose that you were to come across a book written in our 
own time describing the chance meeting of a number of persons, 
all of them interesting in one way or another, in some such gather- 
ing place as, let us say, the smoking room of a transatlantic liner. 
They have a common purpose and interest ; they are going possi- 
bly, for pleasure or on business, to an exposition in Paris. The 
author represents himself as sitting apart, unobserved, but observ- 

vii 



viii INTRODUCTION 

ing each and taking note of his appearance, speech, and character. 
His characters are not selected at random ; they represent various 
phases of American hfe. There is a general just returned from 
the Philippines, a clergyman on his vacation, an officer in the Sal- 
vation Army, a " captain of industry,'' a financier, a lobbyist from 
Washington, a grafting politician, a cowboy, an inventor, mining 
engineer, noted lawyer, well-known merchant, explorer, newspaper 
correspondent, railroad man, famous surgeon, actor, aeronaut, 
jockey, ladies' tailor, and so on. Talk becomes general, and in 
time each tells a story. In his account of the talk and of the 
stories told, the author brings out American life in all its diversity 
of occupations, aims, and interests, practical and ideal, through 
these characters ; each is described so that he is a type, and yet 
so vividly that he seems to the reader a real person, seen and 
hstened to just as if one had met him in real life. Now suppose 
further that the author who describes this gathering and what was 
said and done is above all men the man best fitted to do it — a 
man of the widest experience, who has known all classes and con- 
ditions of people high and low ; a practical man of affairs who has 
been a soldier, a diplomat, a customhouse official, a commissioner 
in various branches of the public service, a member of Congress. 
Suppose also that, beside this, he is the most noted author of his 
time, and, moreover, of the most kindly and genial temper, wise, 
witty, and (what is better) gifted with such a sense of humor that 
his fun and drollery bubble up at every turn, but so gentle, too, 
and of such wide sympathy that, with his wonderful power of put- 
ting what he feels into words, he can touch you to the heart un- 
expectedly, and make you feel, as he feels it, the salt and the 
sweetness of hfe. Suppose it were such a man who was describ- 
ing this gathering for you — would his book not be well worth 
reading? 

Suppose now that five hundred years from to-day men still read 
such a book, as they surely would read it. Why would they do 
so ? Conditions of hfe would then be entirely changed ; the oc- 
cupations and aims and interests of men would certainly in many 



INTRODUCTION ix 

ways be changed. They would read it for three reasons. One is 
the interest and curiosity they might feel in finding out what life 
was like in America five hundred years before, what classes of 
people there were and why, how people talked, what they thought 
of and cared for — in general what they made out of life. The 
second reason is this, that, in spite of the changed conditions of 
life, the human nature in the book, the motives actuating the 
characters, the fun and the seriousness of life as the author pictures 
it, would be quite as true, and quite as interesting, then as now. 
The third reason is, of course, enjoyment of the skill with which 
the author had written his book, its artistic excellence ; for one can 
turn back to a work of genius written long ago, and enjoy it, and 
learn from it, if that work of genius was, when written, true to 
the life of its time and country, and direct in its appeal to the 
elemental principles of human nature, which do not change. 

That is why Chaucer's Prologue is read to-day ; that is why it is 
a famous work in the literature of the world. Just as the reader 
of five hundred years from now would feel about the book we 
imagined, so readers who know Chaucer feel about the Prologue 
and the Canterbury Tales to which it is an introduction. *^ But," 
one might ask, " you can scarcely expect any one to feel as much 
interest in people that lived five hundred years ago, as in people 
of one's own time?" Certainly not. Life is always more im- 
portant and interesting than books, if observed and thought over 
with intelligence, and things as they are are more important to us 
to be studied and understood than things as they were a long time 
ago. But that man suffers a great loss and is much to be pitied, 
who does not use books to help him see and understand life, not 
to speak of the enjoyment books can give. And it is absolutely 
true that this book of Chaucer's is so good a book, that, old as it 
is, it can better help one to observe and understand life, and, after 
observing and understanding, to express clearly his thoughts and 
impressions to himself or to others, than a multitude of books 
that are written to-day. But, also — what is far more important 
than any such practical profit — it can help one through its artistic 



X INTRODUCTION 

worth, for it is through the appreciation of artistic beauty that we 
most surely attain to the highest truth, to the abiUty to under- 
stand the true relations and the true values of things, which is 
called culture. 

III. The Life of Chaucer 

Geoffrey Chaucer actually held positions like those which we 
supposed our imaginary author to have held. If in telling of his 
life I say almost nothing of his literary work, it is for a particular 
reason, which will appear later. 

When Geoffrey Chaucer was born, in 1340, or within a year or 
two of it, Edward III was on the throne, and had not yet completed 
his series of costly campaigns in France. John Chaucer, Geoffrey's 
father, a vintner, or wine merchant, seems to have been connected 
in some way with the court; to this, it would seem, was due 
Geoffrey's lifelong connection with the court, and his friendship, 
perhaps relationship by marriage, with the powerful John of Gaunt, 
Duke of Lancaster, the king's son. 

Dr. FurnivalP has drawn a delightful picture of what Chaucer's 
childhood may have been like, before we find any actual record 
of him : " We have him at his father's wine-shop or tavern in 
narrow Thames St. chatting, no doubt, with English and foreign 
seamen, with citizens who came for their wine, helping to fill their 
pots, perhaps, — a natty, handy lad, but full of quiet fun — messing, 
I dare say, in Wal-brook, that bounded his father's place ; fishing 
in the Thames, I should think ; out on May-day for sweet-scented 
boughs to dress his father's tavern-pole. At school — St Paul's 
Cathedral perchance — sharing in all the games and larks that 
Fitzstephen so well describes some 200 years before; seeing all 
the grand shows that went on in Smithfield, and London streets ; 
well up in his classes, I'll be bound; the boy the father of the man 
in this, that he loved his bookes well. Then he goes to serve 
Prince Lionel's wife as page, and gets his dress of short cloak, 

1 Life Records of Chaucer, Chaucer Society, Second Series, 14. 



INTRODUCTION xi 

pair of red and black breeches, and shoes, with 3^". 6^. for 
necessaries, as Mr. Bond has shown us." 

Dr. Furnivall is referring here to the first record we have of 
Chaucer. This is found on two fragmentary leaves of the house- 
hold accounts of Elizabeth, Countess of Ulster, wife of Lionel, Duke 
of Clarence, third son of the king. On these same leaves are 
entries of payments to '^ Phillippa Pan '* (which means perhaps 
" Lady of the Pantry "), whom he would like to believe the same 
Phillippa whom Chaucer afterwards married. Other entries on 
the same leaves tell us that the countess went to Windsor for 
the Feast of St. George, celebrated with great pomp in con- 
nection with the newly founded order of the Garter, to the funeral 
of Queen Isabella, and that she visited the lions in the Tower ; 
perhaps Chaucer, as a member of her household, went with her. 

Already, then, at sixteen, as a page, Chaucer is connected with 
the court. The next glimpse of him, when only about nineteen, 
is as a soldier ; boys of nineteen or earlier often saw active service 

— vv^itness the Squire whom Chaucer describes in the Prologue. 
Chaucer took part in the king's last campaign in France, was 
taken prisoner, and the king gave for his ransom the sum of ;^i6, 

— a sum fairly large as compared with other ransoms paid by the 
king, and certainly one that seems so when one considers that its 
present value would be about six or eight hundred dollars. On 
his return he seems to have entered the king's service ; at all 
events, when we next find record of him, he is a yeoman, later an 
esquire, of the king's household, where he serves as a " Valletus," 
or valet. Many of the menial services required by royalty, such 
as in a private household are performed by footman, butler, or 
maid, were, and in some courts still are, performed by persons of 
gentle rank. Chaucer and his fellow valets waited on the king at 
table, while dressing, and elsewhere ; made beds ; held and carried 
torches ; ran messages and the like. In attendance on the queen 
there was a lady in waiting named Phillippa (the same Phillippa, 
perhaps, who was with the Countess of Ulster), and Chaucer 
married her, possibly by 1366, certainly before 1374. It is 



xii INTRODUCTION 

probable that she was sister of Katherine de Swynford (whose 
maiden name was de Roet), who became John of Gaunt's wife; 
if so, it is plain why Chaucer throughout his hfe was befriended 
by John of Gaunt and the House of Lancaster. At all events, 
it is certain that Phillippa was of excellent social position, and 
connected in some way with John of Gaunt. An interesting 
proof of this is her admission in 1386 into the fraternity of 
Lincoln Cathedral at the same time with the future Henry IV, 
Sir Thomas de Swynford, and others, John of Gaunt being present 
at the ceremony. 

In 1366 Geoffrey received the first of many annuities (yearly 
pensions) and grants given him by the king and by John of 
Gaunt. Phillippa also received an annuity from the king, and 
later one from John of Gaunt. The record of the payment of 
these annuities helps very greatly in keeping track of Chaucer 
and of his fortunes year by year. His personal and public serv- 
ices, and his marriage, are sufficient to explain these grants of 
money and wine; there is no evidence that they were given in 
recognition of his poetic ability. But his poetic gifts contributed, 
no doubt, to the favor in which h^ was held ; three, perhaps four, 
of his more important poems have a direct connection with the 
court. 

In 1372 Chaucer received his first appointment to a government 
office. During the fourteenth century, administration as a branch 
of government, namely, the management of the financial and 
other affairs of state with businesslike methods, had been very 
greatly developed. Formerly men of clerical training had per- 
formed such duties, but now the civil service, as we should call 
it, had begun to offer opportunities for a career to men like 
Chaucer, who, though not clerics, were well educated. In 1372 
Chaucer was employed upon the first of several important diplo- 
matic commissions as one of three commissioners sent to Italy to 
arrange for a port on the English coast where merchants of Genoa 
might trade. This journey and a later journey to Milan in 1378 
were of the greatest importance, as we shall see, in his literary de-. 



INTRODUCTION xiii 

velopment. He left England in December, and returned in May, 
1373, visiting Genoa and Florence. Shortly after his return he was 
appointed Controller of the Customs and Subsidy of Wools, Hides, 
and Woolfells in the Port of London. This office required his per- 
sonal supervision ; it was not possible, as in the case of many 
offices, then and long after, to hold the office and have the work 
done by a deputy. The holders of the office were enjoined to 
keep their accounts with their own hands, not to employ deputies, 
and to hold in their possession the " other part " of the cocket 
seal, the seal placed upon receipts (hence called cockets) given 
in witness of payment of dues. The jurisdiction of the two col- 
lectors under Chaucer ran from London to Gravesend, and the 
revenue cutter, as it would be called now, to see that goods were 
not smuggled in or out, consisted of a rowboat with a single boat- 
man. In 1382 Chaucer was also appointed to the Controllership 
of the Petty Customs. He held the two offices till 1386, that is, 
he was an officer of the customs for twelve years. His own an- 
nuities and Phillippa's with his salaries brought him in the equiva- 
lent of ^5000 a year to-day. Moreover, we know that he was 
guardian of the estates of two minors, and in 1379 had a grant of 
the value of a large amount of wool exported without payment of 
duty, which brought him the equivalent of ^20,000 in our money. 
He was employed at times on diplomatic missions — a second 
journey to Italy, and several to Flanders, France, and elsewhere ; 
one of these was in connection with the projected marriage, which 
came to nothing, of the young king, Richard, and the daughter 
of the French king. In 1385 he was made Justice of the Peace 
for Kent, and in 1386 he was elected Knight of the Shire, that 
is, member of Parliament, for Kent, where he was then probably 
living. These appointments were made possible by his having 
received special permission from the king in 1385 to perform his 
duties at the customs by deputy. 

For a year or two, beginning in 1386, Chaucer was in serious 
trouble. He lost his position in the customs owing, apparently, 
to the fact that the regency for the young King was under the 



xiv INTRODUCTION 

headship of the Duke of Gloucester, and occasion was made to 
oust him as a follower of the House of Lancaster. PhilHppa died, 
and Chaucer was thus deprived of her pension, and for some 
reason was obliged to surrender his own. But when King Richard 
took the royal power into his own hands, Chaucer was soon placed 
again in office, receiving in 1389 the clerkship of the king's 
works, which paid about three times the salary of his controller- 
ship. His duties were the oversight of the building and repairs in 
the Palace of Westminster, the Tower, and a number of royal 
manors. Also, in 1390 he was made a member of a commission 
to survey the wells, ditches, gutters, sewers, bridges, causeways, 
weirs, and trenches on the " coast " of the Thames between 
Gravesend and Woolwich, and in the same year he was appointed 
to repair the Chapel of St. George at Windsor. Also, in the same 
year, or in 1391, he was appointed a subforester of North Pether- 
ton ; this position, no doubt a sinecure, was given him by the Earl 
of March, the grandson of Duke Lionel, in whose court Chaucer 
began life as a page. 

In 1390 Chaucer had the misfortune to be robbed twice, possibly 
three times, in one month, losing his horse, money of his own, 
certain goods, and ;£2o belonging to the king. This misfortune 
may have been the cause of his losing both his clerkships in the 
following year. He was given no further appointments, very 
probably because he was no longer efficient. The king, however, 
gave him in 1394 a new annuity. In spite of this, and though he 
may have been in the service of John of Gaunt*s son, Henry, Earl 
of Derby, he seems to have been in difficulties, and in 1398 was 
certainly so, as an action for debt was begun against him, making 
it necessary for him to obtain letters of protection from the king, 
and he was forced to obtain advances upon his annuities. The 
king made a. further grant to him, but real relief seems only to 
have come when, in 1398, Richard was deposed, and Henry IV, 
John of Gaunt's son, assumed the throne. Chaucer at once ad- 
dressed him in a poem — the Complaint to his Empty Purse, with 
an envoy to Henry — and Henry confirmed the late king's grants 



INTRODUCTION xv 

and gave him an annuity of forty marks over and above these. 
Chaucer might now look forward to a peaceful old age. He took 
a house in the garden of St. Mary's Chapel, Westminster, on a 
lease of fifty-three years at a yearly rental of 535-. 4^. He was not 
to enjoy his newly won comfort long. On October 25, 1400, he 
died, and was buried in Westminster Abbey — the first poet to be 
buried in what is now the " Poet's Corner." 

The reason why, in this account of Chaucer's life, little or 
nothing was said of his writing, is this. Chaucer served as page, 
soldier, valet to the king, diplomatic envoy, controller of Customs, 
trustee of the estates of minors. Justice of the Peace, Knight of 
the Shire, Clerk of the King's Works, Commissioner of Sewers — 
these offices with their business affairs occupied Chaucer till near 
the close of his life. They would have been enough, one would 
think, to form a career in themselves. Yet this man, who plainly 
approved himself a capable man of business, also made for him- 
self an imperishable name in literature, a place in the first rank of 
poets, not only in the literature of his country, but in the literature 
of the world. 

Is there a parallel to this achievement? Milton turned aside 
for twenty years to serve the Commonwealth as Latin Secretary — 
his duties were largely literary — and returned to poetry at the age 
of fifty-two to write the poems on which his fame chiefly rests. 
Authors of note have at some time held offices or been engaged 
in practical affairs, and physicians, lawyers, statesmen, bankers, have 
attained some measure of success in literature apart from their 
professions. Bacon, Sir Thomas Browne, Fielding, Richardson, 
Charles Lamb, Hawthorne, Lowell, Disraeh, Trollope, Arnold, 
Bagehot, John Morley — examples of this sort might be readily 
multiplied. But there is no parallel to Chaucer's achievement. 

IV. Chaucer's Writings before the Cajiterbury Tales 

While Chaucer's business duties must to some extent have in- 
terfered with his writing, the circumstances of his life in general 
contributed directly to his literary development. In the first 



xvi INTRODUCTION 

place it gave him the widest experience at first hand of Hfe, and 
of men of every station, high and low, from the court circle 
to the merchants and sailors on the Wool Quay, and the con- 
tractors and workmen he dealt with in his building operations — 
he knew the whole range of EngHsh hfe intimately through social 
and business intercourse. His connection with the court made 
him a part of the cultivated society which cared for pohte literature 
and which earliest knew of current literary modes and achieve- 
ments in the country from which England was drawing her Hterary 
inspiration — France. It was for this cultivated society, also, for 
which he wrote. His social and official position must also have 
made a wider range of books accessible to him in the possession 
of influential friends than might be commanded by most men 
devoted to reading and study. To his connection with the court 
was due his employment on diplomatic missions which led to 
the most important influence in his hterary development — his 
acquaintance with Italian literature. 

When English literature after the Conquest is considered (Old 
English literature — that before the Conquest — is another matter), 
it is seen to possess two important general characteristics which it 
is worth our while to note here. One is its general similarity in its 
several kinds : the individuality of the author is not impressed upon 
his work in any marked or significant way. The other is that 
practically all the literature in English, as well as the larger part of 
that written in Latin and French, is secondary and derivative ; it 
is derived from foreign sources, Latin or French. With the period 
in which Chaucer lived (the so-called third period of Middle Eng- 
lish Literature, 1 350-1400), a change had already begun — a change 
which had begun long before in France. Authors who placed an 
individual stamp upon their work had begun to appear. One sees 
this change, for example, in the poems of William of Shoreham, 
though he wrote on trite religious themes, and in Lawrence Minot, 
England's first patriotic poet. One sees it significantly enough in 
Chaucer's great predecessor and contemporary, William Langland, 
who assailed with passionate personal feeling the corruption in the 



INTRODUCTION xvii 

Church in his Piers the Plowman, One sees it in Chaucer's con- 
temporary, the unknown author of Purity^ Patience^ the exquisite 
Pearly and Sir Gawayne and the Gi-een Knight. And one sees 
it most significantly of all in Chaucer. Far the greater part of 
Chaucer's poetry is directly dependent on the work of others, yet 
also, unmistakably, it is instinct with his individuality, bears the 
authentic impress of his personal temperament and genius. How 
did this come about so notably in his case? Genius — by which 
we mean a fortunate complex of creative powers — he possessed, 
but that does not answer the question. The determining influ- 
ences came, as we shall see, from without England. 

We may take it for granted that the range of Chaucer's read- 
ing was very wide — we have, indeed, plentiful evidence to that 
effect in his works. Certain of the classical poets he knew well, 
Ovid particularly ; in theological literature, both the Church 
Fathers and later literature, he had read widely; so also the 
scientific literature, the huge encyclopedic works on everything in 
general, of his time ; histories and chronicles also, of which the 
Middle Ages was so fond ; and, of course, French and English 
romances and fabliaux (short, humorous, generally, in a measure, 
reahstic tales). The list of books we can prove that he at least 
knew is a most impressive one. A scrupulously exact scholar he 
was not, but a rapid and eager reader certainly, seizing with zest 
upon what appealed to him and he could use.^ But, granting his 
wide reading and his constant use of what we may call the stand- 
ard works of his time, we have not yet answered our question. 

For this, we must consider Chaucer's relation to the great move- 
ment, already in progress (its beginnings He far back of him and his 
period) which we call the Renaissance. The essential fact which 

1 Here it may be added that those who accuse Chaucer of blunders (though 
some he certainly made) or of reading only parts of books do so at their peril, for 
such accusations have more than once proved false. Whether or no he was an 
accurate scholar, his translations are little less than marvelous, considering his 
lack of such facilities as we possess — this appears more particularly in his trans- 
lations from the Italian, for French he knew, no doubt, as well as English, and 
Latin he had read from childhood. 



xviii INTRODUCTION 

underlies this movement in its various manifestations is that the 
minds of men gradually became freed from blind acceptance of 
established authority, especially the domination of the Church in 
every relation of life, intellectual and practical. The workings of 
this spirit began earlier in France than in England ; and Chaucer 
came under its influence through a work which was shaped by, 
and intensified, this spirit, the continuation of Guillaume de Loris's 
Romaunt of the Rose by Jean de Meun, written about 1277. The 
first part, by Guillaume de Loris, an allegorical romance of love, 
also affected Chaucer, but the influence of Jean de Meun is far 
more important. Jean de Meun's real subject is Hfe, not senti- 
ment — and allegory applied to life inevitably leads to satire, that 
is, to a criticism of hfe. Jean de Meun's independence in think- 
ing as he pleased, his ability to see life and to pass judgment upon 
it from his personal point of view, the gayety, wit, and spirit of 
his verse, naturally appealed to one fitted, like Chaucer, through his 
intellectual strength, powers of imagination, and keen sense of 
humor, to profit by and follow an example thus set.^ 

The lesson learned from Jean de Meun was later reenforced by 
Chaucer's acquaintance with Italian literature. When Chaucer 
went to Italy in 1372, the three great forerunners of the Renais- 
sance, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, had providentially com- 
pleted their work. Dante had died fifty years before. Petrarch, 
the founder of modern scholarship and apostle of humanism (the 
study of classical literature and application of its lessons to the 
problems of the present), died two years later. Boccaccio, who 
was most to influence Chaucer, died in 1375, sixteen months 
after Petrarch. While Chaucer studied Dante, knew him well, 
and used brief passages from him, while also he paid tribute 

1 It is not possible in such an introduction as this to present this most impor- 
tant and interesting subject more fully. See Gaston Paris in relation to the change 
and advance illustrated by the difference between Guillaume de Loris and Jean de 
Meun, and the profound influence exerted by the latter. The most convenient, 
and the best, statement of the influence of the Roman de la Rose upon Chaucer is 
that by Root in his Poetry of Chaucer, a volume at once most helpful to the student 
and delightful in the reading. 



INTRODUCTION xix 

to Petrarch, it was to Boccaccio, whose temperament and genius 
were in many ways like his own, that he owed most. Boccaccio 
was a student of Hfe for artistic purposes, he presented Hfe reahs- 
tically and dramatically, and he had no didactic purpose — that is, 
desire to teach or preach some moral doctrine — to interfere with 
the full development of his artistic powers. Moreover, Boccaccio's 
works appealed to Chaucer as material which he could refashion 
into English verse for his courtly audience. Chaucer, unfortu- 
nately, did not know the Decameron, but he came into possession 
of two poems by Boccaccio in which, with fresh vividness and 
significance, admirable stories were told in a new way, that com- 
bined a courtly tone and atmosphere with effectively realistic 
incident and delineation of character. The two novels in verse 
which Chaucer used were notable, the one, the Teseide, for the 
interest of its incidents, from which Chaucer drew the Knight's 
Tale, and the other, the Filostrato, for its play of character, from 
which he made the Troilus and Cressida. Chaucer in his turn 
reworked these, as Boccaccio had reworked them from older 
sources, and, while he learned from Boccaccio, he surpassed him. 
Through Jean de Meun and through Boccaccio, Chaucer 
attained to intellectual freedom and to artistic freedom — and 
this freedom it is that made the unfettered expression of his indi- 
viduality in his work possible. Individual, original, he is, even 
though by far the greater part of his work is dependent upon the 
work of other before him. Like other medieval authors, he uses 
whatever he pleases, "taking his own wherever he finds it," 
giving credit for it or not, as he pleases. The question of his 
borrowings was formerly often discussed with a great deal of 
solemnity, but his originality is never in doubt. What he takes 
becomes something different, instinct with his own individuality. 
Lowell's phrase was that he took a pound of lead and gave back 
a pound of gold — a happy phrase, though it would be truer to 
say that he rarely took lead (he had too good an eye for that) ; 
rather he took gold, and returned it shaped into imperishable 
artistic form. 



XX INTRODUCTION 

The old division of Chaucer's Hfe as regards his hterary activity 
into three periods, French, Itahan, and Enghsh, is not to be recom- 
mended. In point of fact, the influence of French Uterature con- 
tinued throughout his Hfe, a fact obscured by such a division. So 
also Italian influence continued after 1372 for the rest of his Hfe, 
and the so caUed '^English period" merely means that in his last 
and greatest work, the Canterbury Tales, he came into the fullest 
and freest exercise of his developed artistic powers. We may now 
pass to a brief survey of his works before the Canterbury Tales, not 
with the expectation that in so brief a treatment we may gain a 
complete or in any sense adequate knowledge of their general 
character, or stiH less enter into the many interesting and difficult 
questions connected with them, but to learn what they are, and, 
what is vitaHy important, to understand the progress of Chaucer's 
Hterary development. 

We may at once put at one side his translation of the Romaunt 
of the Rose — noting the fact that he did translate it, in part at least ; 
his translation of Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy (which, no 
doubt, contributed directly and materially to his inteflectual free- 
dom) ; his astronomical work, the Treatise on the Astrolabe, written 
for his Httle son Louis ; and one or two translations of religious 
works. Nor may we pause upon his shorter poems, either the love 
verse, serious or Hght, or noble ballad of Truth, the beautiful the 
Former Age, Fortune, or the Lack of Steadfastness, a political poem 
upon King Richard. The first point to be noted is that Chaucer is 
writing, at first, under French influence, in accordance with the 
current Hterary traditions and fashions of the courtly verse of his 
day. Like the French poets who are his models, he is a poet of 
love. This demands a word of explanation. The love of which 
Chaucer writes is not love precisely in the sense in which we under- 
stand it. It is the love which formed a part of the code of chivalry. 
According to the chivalric code of love, a knight owed aflegiance 
to God, to his feudal lord, and if he so chose, to a lady whom he 
elected as his mistress, whom he adored, and whose behests he 
honored with loyalty and with ceremonious observance of the laws 



INTRODUCTION xxi 

laid down for lovers in such a case. This cult, which originated in 
the south of France, had developed an elaborate etiquette. It had 
been, and was still, taken seriously ; but it had also become, so to 
speak, a pretty game half serious, half sentimental. There are 
several direct references to it in Chaucer, one is where John of 
Gaunt refers in the Death of Blaunche to his taking upon himself 
in his youth the profession of love, and where also mention is made 
of the quests upon which ladies sent their lovers ; another is where 
the Squire, in the Prologue, is referred to as a "lover." (See the 
Prologue, 1. 8, and note on 1. 75.) In the French poets and 
Chaucer, however, it is not at this time the elaborate older love 
code that is important, but its spirit remaining behind it and color- 
ing the verse expressing courtly gallantry. Chaucer declared him- 
self to be, and was, a love poet. His minor poems, most of them, 
and every important poem up to the Canterbury Tales, are in some 
way connected with love. 

In the greater number of these poems, also, he followed the 
prevaiUng fashion in the form he used. They are "visions," 
poems in which the poet represents himself as falling asleep and 
having a dream or vision which forms the subject of his poem, 
and in which real facts or poetic conceptions can be ideally repre- 
sented disjoined from the realities and commonplace of daily life. 
The use of this device originated in rehgious literature in visions 
of Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. It appears everywhere in 
medieval literature — famous examples are the Romaunt of the 
Rose, Dante's Divine Comedy, and the beautiful EngHsh poem of 
Chaucer's time, the Pearl. 

In the Death of Blaunche the Duchess (1369), the poet finds 
himself in a great forest, where the Emperor Octavian is hunting, 
and there comes upon a knight in black (John of Gaunt), who 
tells him how evilly Fortune has dealt with him in taking from 
him his lady, the " good, fair White" (the Duchess Blaunche, John 
of Gaunt's first wife), and describes, most charmingly, her beauties 
of person and character. In this poem, the love vision serves in 
some sort as an elegy. After Chaucer's return from Italy, while 



xxii INTRODUCTION 

busily occupied with his duties at the customs during the day and 
with his studies at night, among other works (perhaps certain of 
the tales afterward used in the Canterbury Tales were composed 
at this time, and possibly he was translating the Boethius), he 
wrote the House of Fame (about 1379), which, though definitely 
a humorous work, full of delightful drollery and genial satire of 
the striving of men after fame, is, curiously enough, remotely 
influenced in various ways by Dante. In his vision, the poet is 
carried off by an eagle, sent by Jove because the poet has faith- 
fully served his blind nephew, Cupid, and is borne into the firma- 
ment where he visits the House of Fame and the whirling wicker 
house to which all the rumors from earth go. That is, Chaucer is 
borne to the heaven where Fame dwells, just as other poets in 
visions had seen Purgatory or Paradise. Plainly also, though a 
humorous poem, this is, as Mr. Sypherd has recently made clear, 
a love vision, for the express errand of the eagle is to take him 
where, as a change from his business and his studies, he can hear 
tidings of love — what special tidings we shall never know, for 
Chaucer left the poem unfinished. Again, in the next poem, the 
Parliament of Birds , written in 1381, probably, in compliment to 
Queen Anne before her marriage with Richard, the poet in his 
vision finds himself in a garden of exquisite beauty on St. Valen- 
tine's Day, when all the birds are choosing their mates, while a 
council is held by the Goddess of Nature (with the various kinds 
of birds speaking through their representatives, sparrow hawk, 
cuckoo, turtledove, duck, goose, and so on), as to which of three 
tercel eagles (which represent Richard and two rival suitors of 
Anne), shall wed the fair formel eagle (Anne), standing on Na- 
ture's wrist — their final conclusion being that she shall choose for 
herself. 

There comes a change with Chaucer's next work ^ — Chaucer's 
greatest work next to the Canterbury Tales ^ and in some respects 

1 The date is in dispute. It will probably be finally placed about 1382-1385 
despite seemingly strong evidence, recently brought forward, for so early a date as 
1377- 



INTRODUCTION xxiii 

finer, as a work of a higher and more difficult kind. This is the 
Troilus and Cressida, the chief sources of which are the Filo- 
strata of Boccaccio (with some use of his Filocold) and Boc- 
caccio's own source, Benoit de Sainte-More. Though not a 
vision, it is a love poem, indeed a novel in verse. The story can 
only be briefly outlined here. Its theme is the passion of the 
young and romantic Troilus for the beautiful Cressida, innocent 
and ingenuous in his eyes, but really shallow-hearted and wanton 
by nature, who forgets him when, on her return to the Grecian 
camp (the scene is laid before Troy) she meets the gallant and 
handsome Diomede. Nothing c^n be more commonplace than 
such a plot to us to-day, but any person of intelligence may be 
safely challenged to read the poem and not be held enthralled by 
it. Boccaccio certainly deserves all credit for lifting the story to 
the plane of true art, but Chaucer far surpasses him. He makes 
the story hold us through his dehneation of character, not through 
mere interest of incident. His portrayal of the complex nature 
of Pandarus, the go-between who brings the lovers together, is one 
of the most masterly characterizations in the world's .literature. 

In another work, the date of which is not yet satisfactorily 
determined, the Palamon and Arcite, which later became the 
Knight's Tak, he again used Boccaccio, but with a marked differ- 
ence. The poem he used, the Teseide, tells the story of the two 
knights who loved and fought for the fair Emily at great length in 
twelve books, with every conceivable elaboration and digression. 
The story was not one, as Chaucer saw, to bear such treatment as 
he had given the story of Troilus and Cressida. Here the interest 
of the story depends on its incidents, not on development of char- 
acter, and therefore Chaucer told it with the brevity necessary to 
insure the quick action which such a story demands, while his 
Troilus and Cressida \^ much longer than its original.^ 

1 Chaucer had used selections from the Teseide in former works, but the view 
once held that he translated it substantially complete, used parts of his translation, 
and then cut it down to form the Knight's Tale, must be given up. The more 
probable view seems to be that in the Knight's Tale we have the original Palamon 
and Arcite, with but little revision. 



xxiv INTRODUCTION 

In his next work, the Legend of Good Women, Chaucer does 
not continue the new development of his dramatic genius which 
appears in the Troilus and Cressida, The poem opens with a 
prologue which is a love vision, for that form is essentially suited 
to its special purpose.^ In this prologue Chaucer tells us how he 
went out in the springtime to see the daisy open against the sun 
and spend his hours in worship of its beauty. He falls asleep, 
and in his vision sees the God of Love approaching, leading the 
crown of womanly nobiUty and loyalty, Alcestis, by the hand, and 
behind them a great train of women who have all been loyal in 
love. The God of Love accuses him of having dealt disloyally in 
his service, through the translation of the Roniaunt of the Rose, 
and through his portrayal of the faithless Cressida. Alcestis 
pleads for him, and he is enjoined, as a penance, to write legends 
of good, that is, true, women, who have suffered through men's 
faithlessness, and to give it, when finished, to the queen "at 
Eltham or at Sheen." Nine legends, all apparently that Chaucer 
wrote, follow the prologue. This work was plainly written by the 
command of^the queen, probably as a result of the Troilus and 
Cressida, which must indeed have produced a sensation at court. 
It is interesting to note that Chaucer's charming description of 
his going, out to see the daisy, often cited in illustration of his love 
of nature (we may be sure enough of this on other grounds), has 
been clearly shown by Mr. Lowes to depend upon French poems 
in praise of the daisy ; the worship of the daisy was, it would seem, 
at this time a courtly cult, which may even possibly have been 
brought to England by the queen. It is amusing to note that 
Chaucer imitates the legendaries, or collection of saints' lives, com- 
mon in medieval literature, in making this collection of saints in 
the cause of love — and the first of these saints is, mirabile dictii, 
''Cleopatra, Martyr." 

1 This Prologue exists in two versions. The reasons for the revisions in the 
later version are still a matter of controversy, and the question is too complex to 
be touched on here. But it seems certain that the second version was made at a 
time when Chaucer had started on the Canterbury Tales ,2.^6, that his preoccupation 
with his new work prevented his completing the Legend. 



INTRODUCTION xxv 

We have seen that Chaucer's poems thus far all treat of love, 
that he was above all a love poet, that he used the current literary 
form, the vision, for them all save two, the Troilus and Cressida 
and the original of the KnighfsTale. In one of these works, the 
Troilus a7id Cressida, he has shown dramatic power of the highest 
order. In them all there has been a constant development in 
breadth of outlook, independence, conscious artistic power, and 
in the precision and beauty of his verse. We now turn to the 
Canterbury Tales and its famous Prologue, dating about 1387. 

V. The Canterbury Tales 

The subject of the Canterbury Tales is the meeting of a number 
of pilgrims at the Tabard Inn at Southwark, across the river from 
London ; their agreement, at the suggestion of Harry Baily, the 
landlord of the Inn (the "Host"), to ride together to Canter- 
bury, and to tell two stories each going and coming, the one who 
succeeds best in telling entertaining and instructive stories to 
receive a supper at the cost of all on their return ; the incidents 
of the journey as affording a framework for the tales; and, of 
course, as the main feature, the tales themselves. The Prologue 
describes the meeting, the agreement, and the start. 

The points which are of importance can be more briefly and 
clearly set forth in a series of questions and answers : 

I. Did Chaucer base his book upon personal experience? 

Upon personal experience, yes, but not on one special expe- 
rience, that is, a particular pilgrimage. He may well have taken 
the pilgrimage to Canterbury, but not necessarily, for he had 
repeatedly ridden along the road on his way to Dover for the 
Continent when sent on diplomatic missions. Moreover, he seems 
to have lived for a time at Greenwich, which is on the Canterbury 
road. One may be sure he did not meet so representative a 
group of pilgrims at any single time. The artist is always wise in 
basing his work upon personal experience, but he is also wise in 
building upon, and improving, personal experience. It would be 



xxvi INTRODUCTION 

pleasant to think that Chaucer describes a particular pilgrimage 
he had made, but the pilgrimage he describes is just as true and 
as real, and a great deal more interesting, probably, than if he 
described only what he saw on one particular pilgrimage. 

2. What was the purpose of such pilgrimages ? 

Primarily, their purpose was religious ; the pilgrims went to 
venerate the saints whose shrines they visited and to plead for 
their intercession with God; or in token of gratitude, as, for 
example, because they believed the saint had helped them when 
they were sick, or, like the Knight in the Prologue, because of 
safe return from a journey ; or they went simply as a devotional 
act which would procure them pardon for their sins. But also, as 
a matter of fact, going on a pilgrimage was really an excellent 
way of taking a pleasure trip, just as we go off for a few days 
to-day. One could be reasonably sure of good company, better 
and safer roads if one went to a famous shrine, and better lodg- 
ing on the way. A number of Chaucer's pilgrims, certainly, were 
bent chiefly on pleasure. Pilgrimages, because of the merry- 
making the pilgrims indulged in, had already become a scandal to 
the reformers. 

3. Why did the pilgrims go to Canterbury? 

Because of the great fame of St. Thomas Becket, Archbishop 
of Canterbury, champion of the cause of the Church against 
Henry II, which took its rise immediately after Becket's murder 
by emissaries of the King in 11 70. Miracles began to be per- 
formed at his tomb immediately upon his death, and continued 
in increasing numbers, and soon his shrine became thronged 
with pilgrims. His memory was revered as a martyr ; he was the 
greatest of English saints ; his shrine was one of great richness 
and beauty through the gifts offered by persons who believed 
themselves benefited by him ; the distance from London was of 
convenient length, about fifty-six miles, and could be traveled in 
one or more days at pleasure (three or four was the usual number) ; 
it ran through a number of interesting places, and was a better 
road than most ; and the number of pilgrims was so great, and the 



INTRODUCTION xxvii 

business of entertaining them so profitable, that every provision 
was made for their comfort and entertainment, as in our popular 
resorts to-day. 

Pilgrimages were also constantly made to shrines outside of 
England, for example, to the shrine of St. James of Compostella 
in GaHcia, to Rome, and to Jerusalem (the Wife of Bath, one of 
Chaucer's characters, had been twice to Jerusalem). Similar pil- 
grimages are made to-day, by devout Catholics, to Lourdes in 
France, for example, and to Rome, and Jerusalem. 

4. What was the Tabard Inn from which the pilgrims started? 
The chief inn of Southwark. It was convenient for people 

coming from a distance to stop overnight in Southwark, and 
pilgrims from London came over there to spend the night, get 
horses, and ride out in good season in the morning, in company 
with other pilgrims whom they had met in the inn. 

5. What was the route which the pilgrims traveled?^ 

The pilgrims took the Great Dover Road, the Old Kent Road, 
and the New Cross Road to Deptford, then to Blackheath, then 
over Shooter's Hill to Welling, and on to Bexley Heath, Crayford, 
and so to Dartford. After the open common, Dartford Brent, 
at Northfleet, the route lay probably along the northern road to 
Greenwich, or possibly by Singlewell, and so by one way or the 
other to Strood. Next came Rochester, Chatham, Rainham, 
Newington, Dental, Schamel, and Sittingbourne, Swanstree, Bap- 
child, Radfield, Ospringe, Boughton under Blean, Harbledown, and 
at last Canterbury. The general route may readily be followed 
on the map. It goes through the country where Dickens lived, at 
Gad's Hill, which he was so fond of driving about in, and which 
he introduced into his novels. 

We may also try to reproduce, in imagination, the country 
through which the pilgrims traveled. It was a fair country, this 
country of Kent, and fairer then than now, for it was more truly 

1 The answer to this question is taken in abstract from Some Notes on the Road 
from London to Canterbury in the Middle Ages^ edited by Henry Littlehales, Chau- 
cer Society, Second Series, 30. 



xxviii INTRODUCTION 

country, more sparsely inhabited, and the houses more primitive 
in appearance — thatched or tiled — with narrow windows set with 
diamond panes, arched doorway, and a settle, perhaps, by the 
door, and an inclosed garden beside. The streets of the towns 
were narrow and rough-cobbled, without pathway on either side, 
and dark alleys leading from them which might harbor thieves. 
In the country, too, the roads were narrow, and except where the 
way ran along the Roman road, heavy with miry sloughs, and 
tufted with growing grass, as the old pictures show. Great hedges, 
it is likely, bordered them, except in common or forest land, but 
beyond these were the orchards for which Kent is to-day famous, 
apples and cherries — not hop gardens, as to-day, though, for hops 
were not cultivated in England till 1524 ("hops and heresy came 
together into England"). The trees other than these were the 
oak, birch, willow, beech, elm, mountain ash, yew, hawthorn, the 
dog-rose, holly , furze, ivy, peaches, pears, mulberry, fig, damson, 
walnut, the berry-bearing brambles, fir, poplar, plane, and box. 
The old churches would not look different from what they do to- 
day, to any great extent — but what would show least change of 
all in themselves, perhaps, would be the rivers, streams, and 
brooks. If the pilgrims went through Gravesend, they would 
perhaps see the Thames, as certainly at London and Rochester, 
and ships riding at anchor or spreading their clumsy sails — ships 
low-waisted with high-built bow and stern, with a taller mast about 
amidships, and one much lower, aft. The higher mast would bear 
a great sail, emblazoned, perhaps, and above that there would be 
a crowds nest, and above that a long, narrow, forked flag, or pen- 
nant. 

The city, as they approached it, would be seen girt about with 
a high wall, pierced with gates, and with a ditch running along its 
foot. Within, the houses would be mostly one story, with the 
beams showing across the front, and the red-tiled roofs sloping 
sharply above. There would be many churches and many bells, 
and a jostHng throng in the streets in varicolored attire. Within 
the inn at night there would be many of the townspeople, petty 



INTRODUCTION xxix 

tradesmen, and the like, gathered to gaze with curiosity at the 
strangers. The poorer pilgrims would sleep, perhaps in common, 
in low bedlike boxes on short legs, with a striped mattress rolled 
up at the head to form a pillow. The richer would have a half- 
tester bedstead, with sheets, coverlet, and pillow, and the room 
would be furnished with armchair, table, and bench. 

Of course, one should remember the May morning, the beauti- 
ful liquid blue sky of England, the fresh sunshine, the fresh green 
of the trees and fields of grain, the dew lying thick and sparkling 
everywhere, for the pilgrims were early astir, the leisurely progress 
from town to town, with many a homely pleasant scene to beguile 
the journey — men in the forest feUing the trees, with heavy boots, 
tight hose to the waist, tabards or loose gowns, close hoods upon 
their heads, or perhaps sawing the balks of timbers into lengths 
with saws counterpoised with weights, men shrimping along shore 
or drawing nets in the rivers, foresters with their bows, knights 
hawking by the riverside, shepherds in body gowns with the 
hoods over their heads, windmills turning on their hills, old wives 
spinning by their doors — such are some of the scenes the pilgrims 
saw, drawn by Mr. Littlehales from various manuscripts of 
Chaucer's own time. 

6. How many pilgrims were there in Chaucer's company ? 
Thirty-one, including Chaucer — *^ well nine and twenty '* is 

his count, that is about twenty-nine. On the way the Canon's 
Yeoman is added to the number and tells a tale. 

7. How many tales were to be told, and how many were told ? 
Two each going and coming, according to Chaucer's original 

plan, making 124. But Chaucer later changed the number, 
finally, to one each, apparently, as when only a part of the pilgrims 
have told their tales, Canterbury is in sight. The tale of the 
Canon's Yeoman makes an additional tale. Chaucer has left 
twenty-two tales complete, with one well started (the Squire^s 
Tale), and one hardly begun (the Cook's Tale.) It is well to 
remember that the work is in a very unfinished state — here 
unfinished in detail, there fairly complete, with abundant evidence 



XXX INTRODUCTION 

that what we have is still " in the rough." Like a true artist and 
experienced literary workman, Chaucer was working all over it at 
once, neglecting minor details to be attended to later, shifting 
material here and there, refitting old material he had by him to 
form a part of it, and so on. The manuscripts exhibit great con- 
fusion as regards the number and arrangement of the tales, a 
confusion due in part to blunders of the scribes, but also to the 
work's being copied at various times while it was under Chaucer's 
hands and being changed by him. By patient labor, however, 
something like the general plan and order he intended (so far 
as he had settled upon one) has perhaps been recovered. 

The tales have been divided into nine so-called ''groups," each 
group containing a single tale, or two or more tales which, it 
was assumed (not always quite satisfactorily), are so plainly linked 
together as to have a settled order as a group. These nine 
groups were then arranged in what seemed, provisionally, the 
most probable order, and were lettered from A to /. Other 
arrangements have been suggested, but that above referred to, 
though provisional and not final, is accepted as satisfactory for 
practical purposes and used in complete editions. The order is as 
follows: A. Prologue, Knight, Miller, Reeve; B. Man-of-Law, 
Shipman, Prioress, Chaucer's Sir Thopas and Melibeus, Monk, 
Nun's Priest; C, Doctor, Pardoner; D, Wife of Bath, Friar, 
Sompnour ; E, Clerk, Merchant ; F. Squire, Franklin ; G, Second 
Nun, Canon's Yeoman ; H, Manciple ; /. Parson. The tales 
within the groups are connected by passages (called 'Minks " by 
Chaucer students) describing the events of the journey, the inci- 
dents preceding the telling of the tales, and their reception when 
finished; between the groups there are gaps in the narrative. 
New numbering begins with each group. For convenience in 
cross reference, the tales in the present volume are numbered in 
accord with the complete editions. 

8. Where did Chaucer get his plan of connecting stories to- 
gether by having them told by a number of people ? 

The device was a familiar one in the Middle Ages, especially 



INTRODUCTION xxxi 

through the various versions of the Seven Sages ^ in which a wicked 
empress tries to persuade her husband to make way with his son, 
her step-son, by telling him tales adapted to her purpose, the 
effect of which is offset by tales told by the boy's tutors. Chaucer, 
it is certain, did not get the idea from the Decafneron of Boc- 
caccio, as so often stated, for he did not know it ; had he known 
Boccaccio's work, he would have used it. The device came 
originally, in all probability, from the East. It has often been 
used effectively in modern literature in various forms — in English 
literature, by William Morris, Longfellow, Whittier, for example. 

Chaucer's genius is shown in the special form of the device 
which he used — the meeting of a number of pilgrims and their 
telling their tales (as pilgrims did) on their way. By this means 
he could make his characters representative of all classes. Boc- 
caccio, in the Decameron, makes his characters ten ladies and 
gentlemen (friends and all of one class) who retire to a villa near 
Florence to escape the plague. The interest of the Decameron 
is largely confined to the stories told ; in the Cantei'bury Tales 
the variety of the characters, their joking and quarreling, the 
events that happen on the way, are of the liveHest interest. 

9. Where did Chaucer get the idea of bringing together per- 
sons of every class ? 

This idea seems to be original with him — it probably developed 
from his use of pilgrims because of their habit of telling stories on 
the way — and his artistic use of it is the most triumphant proof 
of his genius. It has been questioned whether Langland's " field 
full of folk" in Piers the Plowman, in which all classes of persons 
appear, may not have suggested the idea to him, but this is hardly 
likely. In any case, the use he made of it is none the less re- 
markable as something wholly new in medieval literature. 

10. Of what character are the tales told by Chaucer's pilgrims? 
None of the tales are original in the sense that Chaucer invented 

them — they come from sources of various kinds, classical, Celtic, 
French, Oriental, near or remote. They are original because of 
the form he gave them, the way he tells them, his artistic skill. 



xxxii INTRODUCTION 

the exquisite verse in which he clothes them. They are both 
serious and "merry," the merry tales being most of them coarse, 
in accordance with the character of the persons who tell them, 
such as the Miller, the Reeve, the Shipman. Of the others, a 
brief description may be given. ^ 

The Knight's Tale (an adaptation, as we have seen, of the 
Teseide of Boccaccio, and in existence, in some form, before the 
Canterbury Tales was begun) tells how the two captive knights, 
Palamon and Arcite, fall in love with the lovely Emily, and how at 
last their rivalry was decided by a great tournament, the victor, 
however, losing his prize through his accidental death. The Man 
of Law tells the story of Constance, long and commonplace and 
repetitious in plot, like the romance from which it came, but full 
of passages of exquisite pathos in its portrayal of the virtues of 
Constance, constant, trustful, and loyal to her faith through her 
vicissitudes of fortune — she is the victim of false witness, for ex- 
ample, and is twice set adrift on the open sea. The Prioress's 
Tale, told with exquisite tenderness, is one of numerous legends 
of the murder of a Christian child by the Jews (the revolting su- 
perstition that Jews so sacrifice Christian children still lingers in 
parts of Europe) ; the little lad, though dead, continues to sing 
the praises of the Virgin — his singing has incited the Jews to slay 
him — till his body is discovered. Chaucer himself comes next 
(see the description of himself he puts into the Host's mouth in 
the text, page 97). His offering is a most delightful parody of the 
Northern romances. It is supposed, of course, to be told seri- 
ously, and Chaucer makes the joke all the better and his ridicule 
of the long-winded Northern romance, full of trite phrasing, all the 
more effective by having the Host break in when he has hardly 
begun, saying he can stand no more of that " drasty speech.'* 
Whereupon, in its place, Chaucer tells the moral discourse of 
Melibeus, the chief theme of which is the relation of man and 
wife. It is tedious to us, but to a medieval audience was full of 

1 The links cannot well be included because of the many vexed questions in- 
volved as to their authenticity, proper order, and the like. 



INTRODUCTION xxxiii 

interest, much in the same way as the repetition of well-worn 
arguments on simple subjects of personal interest, in our news- 
papers and elsewhere, are enjoyed by a host of people to-day. 
The Monk then relates a series of " tragedies " of famous person- 
ages fallen from their high estate and fortune, Lucifer, Adam, 
Sampson, Hercules, Nebuchadnezzar, Belshazzar, Barnab6 Vis- 
conti, Ugolino of Pisa, and so on. Then follows one of Chaucer's 
masterpieces of humor, the Nun's Pries fs Tak, which tells of the 
pompous Chanticleer, beguiled by the fox and caught, but suc- 
cessful in tricking his captor and escaping. The Physician tells 
the well-known story of Virginia slain by her father. The Pardoner 
combines with a sermon a tale he uses in the discourses which 
advertise his pardons — a most striking story, of Eastern origin, 
of three roisterers who sally out from the tavern to find and slay 
Death. They meet an old man, shrouded all but his face, who, 
having long sought Death for himself, knocks as he walks with his 
staff on the ground to let him in. He directs them to a certain 
tree, where they shall find what they seek. They there find eight 
bushels of gold coin, and forget their quest in their joy. One is 
sent to procure bread and wine. The two left plot to kill the 
other on his return, that they may have a larger share of the gold. 
They slay him, and drink the wine he has brought. But while he 
was away he had poisoned the wine, in order to have all the treas- 
ure for himself — so all three lie dead beside the gold. Next 
comes the Wife of Bath. After a long prologue on virginity and 
marriage and her own experience in life (another of Chaucer's 
masterpieces, and an admirable example of Chaucer's independ- 
ence and boldness, even though he .uses her as mouthpiece in 
questioning the authority of the Church), she tells a story (Celtic 
in origin) of a knight who, at peril of death, must discover what 
women most desire, learns the answer of a hideous old woman 
(namely, " Mastery"), saves himself, and is afterwards forced to ful- 
fil his promise to marry her. Won by the wisdom and admirable 
spirit of her explanation to him of what constitutes true gentle- 
hood, he kisses her of his free will, whereupon she becomes a 



xxxiv INTRODUCTION 

maiden of surpassing beauty. Then the Friar and the Summoner 
tell tales aimed at each other ; their wrath and scorn is illustrative 
of the bitterness of feeling between the secular clergy and the 
mendicant orders. The Clerk tells the tale of the patient Griselda, 
a girl of lowly birth, whose lovely character enables her to with- 
stand the grievous tests to which her high-born husband subjects 
her. The Squire's Tale (unfinished, unfortunately, as it possibly 
was to have been more largely one of Chaucer's own invention), 
is of the court of the great Cambuskan (Genghis Khan), of a won- 
derful horse of brass that can carry one through the air where one 
will, a ring that enables one to understand the speech of birds, a 
mirror that tells the character and deeds of the person that looks 
into it ; though barely begun, it fascinates us, and we wonder 
what Chaucer would have made of it. The Franklin's Tale is 
also of magic ; it tells how a loyal wife mocks an unprincipled 
suitor by a jesting promise that she will yield to his suit if he 
removes the huge rocks that line the coast. He has this done by 
magic. Her husband, returning from a journey, is overcome by 
sorrow, but considers that her honor demands the fulfillment of 
her vow. Their loyalty and high feeling so affect the suitor that 
he releases her from her promise. The Second Nun tells of the 
virgin-martyr, Cecilia, her refusal to deny her faith, and the con- 
versions wrought by her example. Then, as the company is riding 
along, they are joined by a Canon and his Yeoman, the Canon, 
however, taking to flight when his Yeoman, who has many griev- 
ances against him, begins to expose his swindling practices as a 
pretended alchemist. The Yeoman proceeds to tell how the 
Canon swindled one of his dupes, an amusing story, but also of 
interest and value as showing how clearly Chaucer saw through 
the pretenses of false science, though pretended alchemists could 
still deceive multitudes of people for centuries after him, and in- 
deed can still find dupes to-day. And, finally, the last tale, that 
of the Parson, is a discourse on penitence and the seven deadly 
sins drawn from some version or versions of tractates by two 
Dominicans of the preceding century. 



INTRODUCTION xxxv 

A brief summary like this can, naturally, give no idea of the 
absorbing interest of most of the tales, not only in themselves, but 
as affording glimpses of the life of Chaucer's time, as studied with 
relation to their sources and their variants before Chaucer and 
later, and as illustrating the wide scope of his genius. 

1 1 . Why is the Prologue held to be so great ? 

This question has already been answered in the first sections of 
this Introduction. It gives us a picture of a wide range of Eng- 
lish society in Chaucer's day ; the several portraits are drawn with 
such art that the personages depicted are types of their respec- 
tive classes and yet individual and real as if actual persons ; the 
human nature which Chaucer portrays with such humor or serious 
appeal is precisely the same human nature with its faults and 
virtues which controls people's motives and actions to-day. In a 
word, fundamental and universal realities of life (as in Shake- 
speare) are treated with the highest art ; a work that does this, 
whatever the special forms and types that may be given them, is 
not conditioned by space or time in its appeal, and is assured of 
immortality. 

12. In what way are the Prologue and Tales to be read to be 
fully enjoyed? 

Read them with a desire to enjoy them, as one should always 
read — that is, with a quickened intelligence and a kindled im- 
agination. Let Chaucer's descriptions bring his characters before 
you ; see the people he describes. Notice how deftly and quickly 
he gives them actuality and life, how skillfully he selects precisely 
the bodily features, the features of dress, the tricks of action and 
speech, the habits and quahties, that count in the vivid impression 
with which he leaves you. Notice how his own genial personality 
comes out in the teUing, his sympathy and tolerance ; how kindly 
his humor is, though how unsparingly he can, by his mocking 
irony, lay bare hypocrisy and dishonesty. Notice how what is 
honest and gentle and noble touches him and how he makes you 
feel its worth and dignity, as in his description of the humble 
Parson. Notice how close together in him lay humor and tender- 



1/ 



xxxvi INTRODUCTION 

ness ; how, even when serious, laughter and fun sparkle up through 
his earnestness as if he could not help it. Try, also, to imagine 
what Chaucer's England was like from these pilgrims of his. 
History becomes a very different matter when one has some idea 
of what the people looked like, and how they talked and acted. 
Here, truly, you have them, for Chaucer's time, in their very like- 
ness, as they lived. 

As regards the Tales in particular, notice how, with the instinct 
of genius, for none of his predecessors consistently displays this 
apprehension of the true art of story-telHng, Chaucer cuts out 
whatever is not essential, selecting only what is vital to the integ- 
rity and motivation of the story, and yet is careful not to cut 
below the quick and exclude whatever in the way of comment and 
illustration is necessary to give the story sufficient body and 
atmosphere and bring home its full significance to the hearer. If 
sometimes, very rarely, his comment or illustration, or an occa- 
sional digression, seem hardly vital to the modern reader, we may 
feel sure it had its appeal in his time. Some modern critics, curi- 
ously enough, have expressed surprise at Chaucer's inclusion of 
one or two tales ^ — the Tale of Melibeus, for example. The real 
fact is that Chaucer's taste and skill are not at fault in the least 
— on the contrary we should use these tales, and whatever in his 
mode of story-telling differs from what would seem natural and 
to be approved to-day, to understand what he, the most modern of 
all medieval story-tellers, admitted to his own liking, and what, as 
he knew, would appeal to his hearers. 

VI. The English of Chaucer 

The fact that Chaucer's EngHsh differs from the English of 
to-day may, for a time, seem to interpose a barrier between the 
reader who has never read any Middle English and a ready under- 
standing and appreciation of Chaucer's meaning. But any such 
sense of difficulty soon disappears ; the difference is not sufficient 
to make special training necessary, so far as enjoyable reading is 
concerned, even though the special linguistic problems presented 



INTRODUCTION xxxvii 

by Chaucer might well occupy a man's lifetime. The only real 
difficulty is the obsolete words one meets with ; the meaning of 
these must be ascertained, and it does interfere materially with 
reading for enjoyment to have to turn back to a glossary, or, 
as in the older editions, to hunt for a meaning among a number 
at the bottom of the page. For this reason, in the present edition, 
the text of the Prologue is provided with explanations of obsolete 
words and senses beside the line, so that their meaning may at 
once be caught by the eye. This device will make the reading of 
the Prologue for enjoyment more readily possible, and, this work 
once read (it is much more difficult than any other), the reader 
will be prepared to enter upon the other selections, not so glossed, 
with a sense of ease and confidence from the experience gained. 

A few suggestions follow in regard to Chaucer's language. In 
the earliest period of English, Old Enghsh, or Anglo-Saxon, Eng- 
lish used for the noun and adjective, pronoun and verb, more 
inflections than it does now; our language was then more like 
Latin or Greek, or as German is still. These endings were al- 
ready being given up, especially in the North, before the Norman 
Conquest. After the Conquest, as Enghsh was spoken for a long 
time by uneducated persons chiefly (the upper classes speaking 
French), the disappearance of the endings went on more rapidly. 
Instead of pronouncing a final e, a, o, u, clearly, they spoke in its 
place an indeterminate vowel sound, something like e in bitter, 
such as one makes if one merely opens one's mouth and utters 
voice. This sound, representing older e, a, o, u, was spelled e. 
Often, also, an n at the end of a word, when unnecessary to con- 
vey a special meaning, was dropped ; for example, tellan, to tell, 
became tellen, then telle, and finally, as to-day, tell ; in oxen, 
where -en indicates the plural, it was kept. In Chaucer's time, the 
final e, which had taken the place of the older final vowels, was 
being dropped. In many words it might be pronounced or not, 
as the speaker wished, or it was even added to words which had 
no right to it by derivation. It is often used in verse as a syllable, 
and therefore the question whether or not it is to be pronounced 



xxxviii INTRODUCTION 

in a particular case is of importance. But it is not a difficult 
question in reading Chaucer in an edited text, for the verse itself, 
as will be seen later, indicates whether the -e is to be pronounced 
or not. 

Such a summary of the grammar of Chaucer as is possible in 
an introduction is of little profit. If the subject is to be entered 
into at all, its treatment must be scientific and thorough. Any- 
thing less is a mere pretense. It is far more useful to indicate 
the more important differences between Chaucer's English and 
our own. 

Noun. The genitive is usually -es. Other genitive forms (left 
over from the various Old English declensions) occasionally 
appear, for example, helle^ ladyyfader, for our he/Ps, ladfs^ father's. 
The dative, usually like the nominative, rarely has -e, in honde, to 
reste. The plural ending throughout is usually -^j- or -j {lordcs, 
shoos), but the ending -en {-n), which we still have as in oxen, is 
much more frequent than now (asshen, ashes, foon, foes, toon, 
toes). A number of words (as in Old English) are the same in the 
plural as the singular; deer, folk, hors, pound, sheep, swyn, thing, 
yeer, winter, but some of these may take as well a plural in -es, -s. 

Adjective. The weak form throughout of the adjective (one 
used after a pronoun, including the article), with the exception 
frequently of adjectives of more than one syllable, has -e, e.g. the 
smaie, swote, grene, gras, my sworne brother. Also the vocative, 
O stronge God, Also the plural throughout of the strong adjec- 
tive, pore men. Also adjectives used as adverbs, brighte, brightly. 
An old genitive occurs in alter, of all, as used in compounds. 

Pronouns. His is used for the genitive of // {its did not come 
in till the sixteenth century). The nominative plural of the per- 
sonal pronoun is they, as now, but the genitive is here, hire, her, 
hir, and the dative and accusative hem. That is used for the 
neuter of the demonstrative pronoun (definite article) the. Note 
also that pronouns used as subjects (sometimes other words) are 
now and then omitted, and have to be suppHed, and that in 
Middle English there was not so much care used in making clear 



INTRODUCTION xxxix 

to whom or to what a pronoun refers — one may find several he*^ 
close together referring to different persons, or a personal pronoun 
may refer back a long way for its antecedent, other persons having 
or things having been mentioned in between. 

Verbs. The verb forms will usually explain themselves, and 
paradigms need not be given. Verbs with stems ending in /, d^ 
th, s, sometimes are contracted in the third person singular, pres- 
ent indicative : ^//, slit, lest, worth, rist, for byteth, slydeth, lesteih, 
wortheth, riseth. The plural of the present indicative is en or e, 
beren, tellen, bere, telle. The plural of the preterit indicative is e 
or en, songen, songe, speken. The present subjunctive ends in e. 
The imperative singular has no ending or sometimes e ; the im- 
perative plural is usually -et/i, but sometimes this is dropped as in 
Modern EngHsh. The infinitive ends in en or e. The past par- 
ticiple of strong verbs ends in en or e. Difficult forms of indi- 
vidual verbs are given in the Glossary. 

A word should be added in regard to the prepositions. They 
have constantly in Chaucer (like other words) meanings different 
from their modern meanings. These variations of meaning are so 
numerous that they cannot be easily enumerated in the Glossary ; 
the proper meaning usually suggests itself readily from the con- 
text. 

Except for occasional constructions (very few and far between), 
the syntax of Chaucer is like that of Modern English. Construc- 
tions unusual to-day, when difficult, are explained in the Notes. 

We pass now to a subject properly belonging under the present 
heading, but so important as to merit a chapter by itself. 

VII. The Pronunciation of Chaucer 

All good poetry to be truly enjoyed must be read aloud, and to 
read Chaucer aloud properly, and regain in some measure the 
movement and the melody he gave his verse, one must use some 
approximation to the pronunciation in use in his day. If one were 
to examine with the greatest care the derivation of every word 
and study its use in rime, an attempt to recover the proper pro- 



xl INTRODUCTION 

nunciation would at best be only approximate ; as it is, a very 
rough approximation has to answer. Rough though it may be, 
however, it is a vast improvement upon reading as if one were 
reading modern EngHsh ; read that way, Chaucer's verse seems, 
as it seemed to Dryden in the seventeenth century, very rough 
and defective indeed. 

Three points of general importance are these — that the final e 
is often pronounced (see later), that proper nouns often vary 
their accentuation, and that many words of French origin have not 
come to be accented on the first syllable, as was usual later if they 
remained in use. In these cases, as we shall see, the movement 
of the verse serves as a guide. 

The vowels in general are pronounced like the vowels in Latin. 
The observance of this rule is as far as many persons go ; but one 
may also easily observe the following simple rule, which, while 
not accurate, at least helps towards accuracy. When a vowel is 
in an open syllable, that is, when it is not followed in that syllable 
by a consonant (as he-re, ha-re, hi-re), pronounce it with its his- 
toric value as we pronounce it in reading Latin. When a vowel 
(except a) is in a closed syllable, that is, when it is followed by 
a consonant in that word or syllable (as thetiy hel-pen, hol-pen), 
pronounce it like modern " short " vowels (Hke e in men, i \w pin, 
o in not^ The consonants, for the most part, may be pronounced 
like the consonants in Modern EngHsh. 



Vowels 

a, df like a in father : ar-me, cas, ha-te^ gra-ce, 

aif ay, like at m pail : pay, fair-e, 

au, aw, like ou in house : aught, law-e, 

e, like e in bed : sette, 

e (open), like e in best : breed, cle-ne, 

e (close), like a in hate : pre-ve, pi-te. 

ei, ey^ like ei in veil : wey, sey-en, seith, 

I, as in pin : is, stil-le. 

t, as in police : lik, wri-te, 

igf like a in hate : mischief. 



INTRODUCTION xli 

Oy like in not : ofy long^ hop-pen. Also, like oo in good in words which in 
Modern English are spelled with o that is pronounced like u input : son-ney 
monk. 

(open), spelled o and oo, like the oa in broad, but without its little after- 
sound : gOy hooly stoon, ook. Never pronounce oo in Chaucer like oo in 
good. 

(close), as in note : swo-te, book, hood, 

oiy oy, as in toit, toy : floy-ien, boy. 

ouy owy like oo in tool, rarely like o followed by u : now, flour y sough-te ; sou-le, 

oghy as if followed by u : swogh, 

oughy like ou or like ogh : bough. 

My as in but : buty cut. 

Uy a (French), like French m : justy nature, 

y, like i. 

Consonants 

gy as in got : gon, ginnen. But in words from the French before ^, /, as now, / / 

geaunty rage, 
chy cchy as in riches : fecchen. 
gg. usually j : egge, juggen. Sometimes gy where g as in go now appears : 

(ioggey frogge. 
ghy after a vowel, like German ch : bough, light, 
gny like n : digne. 

kny with k pronounced before the n : knowe, 
ngy as va finger, always : singen. 
r is trilled. 

Sy between vowels, is like z : ese. 
s final like s in this : is, was, 

VIII. Chaucer's Versification 

Chaucer was a master in the making of verse, and we should 
miss a very large part of the pleasure his poetry gives, if we should 
neglect to learn how to read it properly with respect to the metrical 
laws Chaucer so scrupulously observed. We soon come to see 
that its beauty is due to the fact that, while possessing the widest 
freedom and variety within the law, it always obeys precise laws. 
Chaucer's precision is so great that when a Hne contains a license 
such as many another poet would readily permit himself, scholars 
at once question whether we have the line just as he wrote it, or 



xlii INTRODUCTION 

whether it may not have been miscopied or altered by the scribe, 
and often a comparison of the manuscripts enables them, in such 
cases, to recover the right reading. 

In the selections in this volume, the House of Fame illustrates 
the form of verse which Chaucer used in his earlier verse, namely 
the four-stressed rimed couplet : 

God turne us every dreem to gode ! 

For hit is wonder, by the rode, 

To my wit, what causeth swevenes 

r r r r 

Either on morwes, or on evenes. 

He next turned to writing five-stressed verse in stanzas, as in 
Troilus and Cressida and other lesser works. Finally, he turned, 
in the Legend of Good Women and the Canterbury Tales y to the 
form of verse which he made preeminently his own — it has since 
had a long and famous history in EngUsh Hterature — the " heroic 
couplet," made up of two five-stressed iambic lines coupled by 
rime. It will suffice for us to consider this five-stressed line, as 
the earlier four-stressed line offers no special difficulties of its own. 

In the first place, the question of the pronunciation of the final 
-^, already referred to, becomes of importance, for on it the 
movement of the line constantly depends. This -e is sometimes 
pronounced and sometimes not ; but, in fact, there is seldom any 
difficulty in telling whether or not to pronounce it, for almost al- 
ways the movement of the line indicates what -^*s are to be pro- 
nounced and what not. These rules are to be observed — one 
soon apphes them instinctively : — 

1. The -e is always pronounced at the end of the line in the rime word 
(remember that it is pronounced nearly like e in bitter) : for example, so-te^ 
hostelry- e. 

2. When there is an -e before the caesura (the marked pause in the line), 
it is pronounced : 

Whan they were won-ne ; /and in the Crete See. (59) 

3. Before a vowel and before a lightly pronounced h^ the -e is dropped: 

The droght(e) of Marche / hath perced to the roote. (2) 
No herd hadd(e) he, / ne never sholde have. (689) 

In this line the -e before he drops, but that before have is kept. 



INTRODUCTION xliii 

To these may be added a rule in regard to unstressed e within 
a word when coming before another unstressed e or other un- 
stressed vowel. In such cases it was pronounced Hghtly, or 
dropped: ev{e)ry, ercedek{e)nes. But in preterit forms of the 
weak verb ending in -ede, there was a tendency to drop the final 
-e (owing to the influence of the past participle) ; probably such 
a word as werede was pronounced in any of three ways, werede, 
wer'de, and wered. 

These rules understood, we may next see how the line is made 
up. The normal line has five iambic feet, each foot containhig 
an unstressed and a stressed syllable. For example (all the ex- 
amples are taken from the Prologue) : 

r f r r r 

Bifel that, in that sesoun on a day. (19) 

Often, it should be noted, the rime word has an unaccented syl- 
lable after the stressed syllable : 

And sma-le fou-les / ma-ken me-lo-dy-e. (9) 

To fer-ne hal-wes/ couth (e) in son-dry lon-des. (14) 

Sometimes the unstressed and stressed syllable in the first foot 
are reversed, making the first foot a trochee. This may also 
take place after the caesura ; in the first example the first foot and 
the foot after the caesura are both reversed : 

Trouthe and ho-nour, / fre-dom and cur-tei-si-e. (46) 
Juste, and eek daun-ce, / and wel pur-treye, and wri-te. (96) 

Sometimes the unstressed syllable of the first foot is omitted : 

Al bi-smo-tered /with his ha-ber-geoun. (76) 

Rarely two unstressed syllables are used before the stressed syl- 
lable in a foot : 

With a t/ired-ha.re. co-pe / as is a poure sco-ler. (260) 
Is Hk-ned til a fissh///^<2/ is wa-ter-\ees. (180) 

Rarely an uns^tressed syllable (other than the -e, as above,) is 
added before the caesura : 

A r r r r 

In youthe he had-de lem-^r^/a good mys-ter. (613) 

In the text of the Prologue^ the scansion of difficult lines is 
indicated by use of accents and by marking the silent ^'s in irregu- 



xHv ' INTRODUCTION 

lar cases with a dot beneath, thus (e). The student will soon find 
himself able to scan without trouble. In case of difficulty, mark 
the line off into feet, using for stressed syllables those syllables 
which would be naturally stressed in speaking, and the proper 
division will soon be discovered ; it is often a help to mark the 
feet off backwards from the end of the line. The remaining texts 
are purposely left unmarked in order that the student may be 
forced to apply the rules without assistance. 

IX. Conclusion 

In conclusion, I add the tributes of three poets to Chaucer's 
memory. 

Eleven or twelve years after Chaucer's death Hoccleve in his 
Regement of Princes wrote as follows : 

^' O master dear and father reverent, my master, Chaucer, flower 
of eloquence, pattern of profitable understanding; O universal 
father in knowledge, alas, that thou mightest not bequeath thine 
excellent wisdom on thy death-bed ! What ailed Death? Alas, 
why should she slay thee ? O Death, thou didst not harm one alone 
in slaying him, but all this land it hurteth ; but nevertheless, yet 
hast thou not power his name to slay — his high virtue escapeth 
unslain from thee, which ever hearteneth us in stirring wise with 
books of his fair inditing, wherewith all this land is illuminated. . . . 
Alas, my worthy and honorable master, this land's very treasure and 
riches. Death, by thy death, hath done unto us harm irreparable ; 
her revengeful violence hath despoiled this land of the sweetness of 
rhetoric, for unto Tully was never man so like among us .... She 
might have tarried her vengeance a while, till that some man had 
been born equal to thee. Nay, let be ! she knew well that this isle 
may never bring forth man hke to thee, and she must needs fulfill 
her office. God bade her do so, I trust as for the best. O master, 
master, God rest thy soul ! " 

And in the seventeenth century Dryden wrote : 

" With Ovid ended the golden age of the Roman tongue ; from 
Chaucer the purity of the English tongue began. . . . Both writ 



INTRODUCTION xlv 

withwonderful facility and clearness. . . . Both of them understood 
the manners, under which name I comprehend the passions, and 
in a larger sense the descriptions, of persons and their very habits. 
For an example, I see Baucis and Philemon so perfectly before 
me as if some ancient painter had drawn them ; and all the Pilgrims 
in the Canterbury Tales, their humors, their features, and their very 
dress, as distinctly as if I had supped with them at the Tabard in 
Southwark. Yet even then the figures of Chaucer are much more 
lively and set in a better light. ... As he is the father of English 
poetry, so I hold him in the same degree of veneration as the Grecians 
held Homer, or the Romans Virgil. He is a perpetual fountain of 
good sense, learned in all the sciences, and therefore speaks properly 
on all subjects. . . . Chaucer followed Nature everywhere, but was 
never so bold to go beyond her. . . . He must have been a man of 
a most wonderful comprehensive nature because it has been truly 
observed of him, he has taken into the compass of his Canterbury 
Tales the various manners and humors (as we now call them) of 
the whole English nation in his age. Not a single characteristic 
escaped him. All his pilgrims are severally distinguished from each 
other and not only in their inclinations but in their very physiogno- 
mies and persons. . . . The matter and manner of their tales and 
of their teUing are so suited to their different educations, humors, 
and calHngs, that each of them w^ould be improper in any other 
mouth. Even the grave and serious characters are distingushed 
by their several sorts of gravity — their discourses are such as belong 
to their age, their calling and their breeding ; such as are becoming 
of them and of them only. . . . But enough of this ; there is such 
a variety of game springing up before me that I am distracted in 
my choice, and know not which to follow. 'Tis sufficient to say, 
according to the proverb, that here is God's plenty'' 

Hearty, outspoken words not wholly in accord in all points with 
the results of modern criticism, perhaps, but what fine, whole- 
souled, generous appreciation they speak ! Finally, we turn to the 
opening words of an essay upon Chaucer by a true poet, and at 
the same time a great critic, James Russell Lowell : 



xlvi INTRODUCTION 

'* Can any one hope to say anything, not new, but even fresh, on 
a topic so well worn? It may well be doubted; and yet one is 
always the better for a walk in the morning air, — a medicine 
which may be taken over and over again without any sense of 
sameness, or any failure of its invigorating quality. There is a 
pervading wholesomeness in the writings of this man, — a vernal 
property that soothes and refreshes in a way of which no other has 
ever found the secret. I repeat to myself a thousand times : — 

* Whan that Aprile with his showres sote 
The droughte of Marche hath perced to the rote, 
And bathed every veine in swich licour 
Of which virtue engendered is the flour, — 
When Zephyrus eek with his swete breth 
Enspired hath in every holt and hethe 
The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne 
Hath in the ram his halfe cors yronne, 
And smale foules maken melodic,' — 

and still at the thousandth time a breath of uncontaminate spring- 
tide seems to lift the hair upon my forehead." 



CHAUCER 



CHAUCER 



THE PROLOGUE 



[A. 1-858] 
Here Bygynneth the Book of the Tales of Canterbury 

Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote showers sweet 

The droghte of Marche hath perced to the roote, ^,^,^^^^^^^ 

such a liquor 
that of its, created 

also 

breathed into, wood, 
heath 

shoots, sun 



And bathed every veyne in swich licour 

Of which vertu engendred is the flour; 
5 Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth 

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth 

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne 

Hath in the Ram his halfe cours yronne, 

And smale fowles maken melodye, 
10 That slepen al the nyght with open ye — 

So priketh hem Nature in hir corages — 

Than longen folk to goon on pilgrymages, 

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, 

To feme halwes, couthe in sondry londes ; 
15 And specially, from every shires ende 

Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende, 

The hooly blisful martir for to seke, 

That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke. helped, sick 
Bifel that, in that sesoun on a day 
20 In South werk at the Tabard as I lay stopped 

Redy to wenden on my pilgrymage go 

To Caunterbury with ful devout corage, ^dL^isltion) 

At nyght were come into that hostelrye 

Wei nyne and twenty in a compaignye 



birds 

eye 

spurs (stirs), heart 
(inner being) 



strands 

far hallows 
(saints) , known 



take their way 



2 CHAUCER 

25 Of sondf y folk, by aventure yf alle chance, fallen 

In felaweshipe, and pilgrimes were they alle 
That toward Caunterbury wolden ryde. 
The chambres and the stables weren wyde, large 

And wel we weren esed atte beste. cared for (entertained), 

in best wise 

30 And, shortly, whan the sonne was to reste, at rest 

So hadde I spoken with hem everichon each one 

That I was of hir felaweshipe anon, forthwith 

And made forward erly for to ryse, agreement (promise) 

To take oure wey ther as I yow devyse. where i shaii teii you 

35 But natheles, whyl I have tyme and space, ""^^s^eeing'that) 

Er that I ferther in this tale pace, pass 

Me thynketh it aCOrdaUnt to reSOUn it seems to me reasonable 

To telle yow al the condicioun condition in life 

Of ech of hem, so as it semed me, 

40 And whiche they were, and of what degree, ofwhatsort,jank 
And eek in what array that they were inne ; dress 

And at a knyght than wol I first bigynne. 

A Knyght ther was, and that a worthy man, 
That, fro the tyme that he first bigan 

45 To riden out, he loved chivalry e, to travel abroad 

Trouthe and honour, f redom and curteisie. generosity, courtesy 
Ful worthy was he in his lordes werre, distinguished in prowess, wars 
And therto hadde he riden, no man ferre, farther 

As wel in cristendom as hethenesse, christian as in heathen lands 

50 And ever honoured for his worthynesse. knightly qualities 

At Alisaundre he was, whan it was wonne ; 
Ful of te tyme he hadde the bord bigonne headed the table 

Aboven alle naciouns in Pruce. nations, Prussia 

In Lettow hadde he reysed and in Ruce, Lithuania, mad^ war, 

55 No cristen man so ofte of his degree. 

In Gernade at the seege eek hadde he be Grenada 

Of Algezir, and riden in Belmarye. Aigeciras, Benamarin 



CHAUCER 3 

At Lyeys was he, and at Satalye, Ayas (once Layas), Adaiia 

Whan they were wonne ; and in the Crete See Mediterranean 

60 At many a noble armee hadde he be. expedition by sea 

At mortal batailles hadde he been fif tene, in deadly 

And foughten for oure feith at Tramyssene Tremessen 

In listes thryes, and ay slayn his foo. lists (set combat), always 

This ilke worthy knyght hadde been also same 

65 Somtyme with the lord of Palatye Paiathia 

Agayn another hethen in Turkye, — heathen foe 

And evermore he hadde a sovereyn prys, ever since, fame 

And though that he were worthy, he was wys, '^^"ens'ibfe 

And of his port as meek as is a mayde. behavior 

70 He nevere yet no vileinye ne sayde unworthy thing 

In al his lyf , unto no maner wight. sort of person 

He was a verray parfit gentil knyght. tmiy perfect nobie 

But for to tellen yow of his array, 
His hors were goode, but he was nat gay. horses, finely dressed 

75 Of fustian he wered a gypon fustian, dose vest 

Al bismotered with his harbergeon, soiled, coat of man 

For he w^as late ycome from his viage, journey 

And wente for to doon his pilgrymage. make 

With hym ther was his sone, a yong Squier, 

80 A lovyere, and a lusty bacheler, gay-hearted bachelor 

With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd in presse, had"been 

Of twenty yeer of age he was, I gesse. 
Of his stature he was of evene lengthe, in, proper height 

And wonderly delivere, and greet of strengthe, movement 

85 And he hadde been somtyme in chivachye on military expeditions 
In Flaundres, in Artoys, and Picardye, Flanders, Artois, Picardy 
And born hym wel, as of so litel space, allowing for so short a time 
In hope to stonden in his lady grace. stand in his lady's favor 

Embrouded was he, as it were a meede embroidered, meadow 

90 Al ful of fresshe floures white and reede : 



4 CHAUCER 

Syngyng he was, or floytynge, al the day ; fluting 

He was as fresh as is the month of May. 

Short was his gowne, with sieves longe and wyde. 

Wei coude he sitte on hors, and f aire ride, admirably 

95 He coude songes make, and wel endite, compose verse 

Jiiste, and eek daunce, and wel purtreye, and write. ^^"^J; 

So hoote he lovede, that by nyghtertale fervently, nighttime 

He sleep namoore than dooth a nyghtyngalc. 

Curteys he was, lowely, and servysable, courteous, modest, dutiful 

loo And carf biforn his fader at the table. carved, before 

A Yeman hadde he, and servants namo yeoman, no more 

At that tyme, for hym liste ride so; it pleased him to ride 

And he was clad in cote and hood of grene. 

A sheef of pecok arwes brighte and kene pelTJck felthers 

105 Under his belt he bar f ul thriftily ; carefully 

Wel coude he dresse his takel yemanly, tackle, like a good yeoman 

His arwes drouped noght with f etheres lowe ; drooped 

And in his hand he bar a myghty bowe. 

A not-heed hadde he, with a broun visage. ""'^^':!i_^!l"'^J^^ 
no Of woode-craft wel coude he all the usage. knew, practice 

Upon his arm he bar a gay bracer ; bracer (arm-guard) 

And by his syde a swerd and a bokeler, buckler (smaii round shield) 

And on that oother syde a gay daggere, fine 

Harneised wel, and sharp as poynt of spere ; appointed 

115 A Cristof re on his brest of silver shene ; st. Christopher, bright 

An horn he bar, the bawdrik was of grene— ^"^^"" ^'^if^^;^ 

A forster was he soothly, as I gesse. forester, tmiy 

Ther was also a Nonne, a Prioresse, Prioress 

That of hir smylyng was f ul symple and coy ; "^""^^Zi 

120 Hir gretteste 00th was but by seynte Loy ; st. Eiigius 

And she was cleped madame Eglentyne. called 

Ful wel she song the servic6 divyne, 

Entuned in hir nose ful semely ; intoned (see note), properly 



CHAUCER 



And Frensh she spak full faire and fetisly, elegantly 

12$ After the scole of Stratford-atte-Bowe, school 

For Frensh of Paris was to hire unknowe. 

At mete wel ytaught was she withalle; 

She leet no morsel from hir lippes falle, 

Ne wette hir fyngres in hir sauce depe ; 
130 Wel coude she carie a morsel, and wel kepe 

That no drope ne fille upon hir brest. 

In curteisie was set f ul muchel hir lest ; 

Hir over-lippe wyped she so clene, 

That in hir coppe ther was no ferthyng sene 
135 Of grece, whan she dronken hadde hir draughte ; 

Ful semely after hir mete she raughte, 

And sikerly she was of greet disport, 

And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port, 

And peyned hire to countrefete cheere 
140 Of court, and been estatlich of manere, 

And to ben holden digne of reverence. 

But, for to speken of hir conscience, 

She was so charitable and so pitous, 

She wolde wepe, if that she sawe a mous 
145 Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde. 

Of smale houndes hadde she, that she fedde 

With rosted flessh, or milk and wastel breed ; the best bread 

But sore wepte she if oon of hem were deed. 

Or if men smoot it with a yerde smerte — stick, smartly (hard) 
150 And al was conscience and tendre herte. 

Ful semely hir wympel pinched was ; wimpie, plaited 

Hir nose tretys, hir eyen greye as glas, . weii-formed, eyes 

Hir mouth ful smal, and therto softe and reed ; 

But sikerly she hadde a fair forheed, 
155 It was almoost a spanne brood, I trowe ; believe ("should say") 

For, hardily, she was nat undergrowe. certainly, shon in stature 



well brought up 



lift to her mouth, 
take heed 



much, pleasure 

cup, particle 

grease 

reached 

surely, lively of spirit 

in manner of address 

took pains, the ways 

to be stately in manner 

worthy 

compassionate 



6 CHAUCER 

Ful f etys was hir cloke, as I was war. finely made 

Of smal coral aboute hir arm she bar 

A peire of bedes, gauded al with grene ; "^'^beldsTau oP^'fen 

i6o And theron heng a brooche of gold ful shene, 
On which ther was first writen a crowned A, 
And after, Amor vmcit 0'>nnia, 

Another Nonne with hir hadde she, 
That was hir chapeleyne, and Preestes thre. chaplain 

165 A Monk ther was, a fair for the maistrie, a fair one exceedingly 
An outridere, that lovede venerye ; """'"^DYh'Jlitir 

A manly man, to been an abbot able. 

Ful many a deyntee hors hadde he in stable, choice 

And whan he rood, men myghte his brydel here 

lyoGynglen in a whistlynge wynd, als clere, jingie 

And eek as loude, as doth the chapel belle, 
Ther as this lord was kepere of the celle. where, ceii 

The reule of seynt Maure or of seynt Beneit, '"^^'B^nS 

By-cause that it was old and som del streit, strict 

175 This ilke monk leet olde thynges pace, same, let [these], go 

And held after the newe world the space. 3tateTtM"gVhis'™urs: 
He yaf nat of that text a pulled hen, gave (cared), plucked 

That seith, that hunters ben nat hooly men ; 
Ne that a monk, whan he is reccheless, heedless (of rule) 

180 Is likned til a fissh that is waterlees ; to 

This is to seyn, a monk out of his cloistre. cloister 

But thilke text held he nat worth an oystre, that same 

And I seyde his opinioun was good. 
What sholde he studie, and make hymselven wood, why, mad 

185 Upon a book in cloistre alwey to poure, pore 

Or swynken with his handes and laboure, toil 

As Austyn bit ? How shal the world be served? tla^^'L^reS 
Lat Austyn have his swynk to hym reserved. 
Therfor he was a pricasour aright ; hard rider for sure 



CHAUCER 7 

190 Grehoundes he hadde, as swifte as f owel in flight. 

Of prikyng and of huntyng for the hare 

Was al his lust, for no cost wolde he spare. 

I seigh his sieves purfiled at the hond saw, bordered 

With grys, and that the f yneste of a lond ; gray fur, in the land 
195 And, for to f estne his hood under his chyn, 

He hadde of gold ywroght a ful curious pyn, 

A love-knot in the gretter ende ther was. 

His heed was balled that shoon as any glas, bald 

And eek his face as he hadde been anoynt. anointed 

200 He was a lord ful fat and in good poynt ; in good condition 

His eyen stepe, and rollynge in his heed bright 

That stemed as a f orneys of a leed ; shone, grate, caidron 

His bootes souple, his hors in greet estaat — in fine condition 

Now certeynly he was a fair prelat. prelate 

205 He was nat pale as a for-pyned goost; ^^°^' "^^tormen^ 

A fat swan loved he best of any roost. 

His palfrey was as broun as is a berye. horse 

A Frere ther was, a wan town and a merye, Friar, sportive 

A lymytour, a ful solempne man. limitor, cheerful 

210 In alle the ordres f oure is noon that can knows 

So moche of daliaunce and fair langage. gossip, flattering 

He hadde maad ful many a mariage 

Of yonge wommen at his owene cost. 

Unto his ordre he was a noble post. piiiar 

215 Ful wel biloved and f amulier was he at home 

With frankeleyns over al in his contree, franklins, everywhere 

And with worthy wommen of the toun : respected (for rank 

-' ' or wealth) 

For he hadde power of COnfeSSioUn, the power to hear confessions 

As seyde hymself , moore than a curat, ''"''^'^ ^°°^y^" ''^^^^^'^e 

220 For of his ordre he was licentiat. a licentiate 
Ful swetely herde he confessioun, 
And plesaunt was his absolucioun ; 



8 



CHAUCER 



He was an esy man to yeve penaunce 

There as he wiste to have a good pitaunce; expected to be given 

225 For unto a povre ordre for to yive mendicant order, give 

Is signe that a man is wel yshrive ; shriven 

For, if he yaf, he dorSte make avaunt, gave, durst, confident statement 

He wiste that a man was repentaunt; knew 

For many a man so hard is of his herte, 
230 He may nat wepe al thogh hym soore smerte; it smart him 

Therfore, in stede of wepynge and preyeres, 

Men moote yeve silver to the poure freres. ought to give 

His tipet was ay farsed ful of knyves tippet (cape), always stuffed 

And pynnes, for to yeven faire wyves. 
235 And certeinly he hadde a murye note ; 

Wel coude he synge and pleyen on a rote. rote 

Of yeddynges he bar outrely the pris. songs, carried away, prize 

His nekke whit was as the flour de lys. 

Therto he strong was as a champioun. 
240 He knew the tavernes wel in every toun, 

And everich hostiler and tappestere 

Bet than a lazar or a beggestere ; 

For unto swich a worthy man as he 

Acorded nat, as by his facultee, 
245 To have with sike lazars aqueyntaunce 

It is nat honest, it may nat avaunce 

For to deelen with no swich poraille. 

But al with riche and sellers of vitaille j 

And over al, ther as profit sholde aryse, 
250 Curteis he was, and lowely of servyse. 

Ther nas no man nowher so vertuous ; 

He was the beste beggere in his hous, 

For thogh a wydwe hadde noght a sho, 

So plesaunt was his '' In principioy 
25s Yet wolde he have a f erthyng er he wente ; 



fleur-de-lys 
champion (see note) 

hostler, tapster 
better, leper, beggar 

for, in the case of 

it was not fitting, (considering his 
endowments) 

such 

creditable, prove helpful 

deal, poor folk (paupers) 

provisions 

everywhere, where 

humble in giving 

capable 

widow, shoe 



CHAUCER 9 

His purchas was wel bettre than his rente. sfald'income 

And rage he coude as it were right a whelpe. p^^^' ^' '^^l^^^^ 
In love-dayes ther coude he muchel helpe, love-days 

For ther he was nat lyk a cloysterer, dweiier in a cloister 

260 With a thredbare cope, as is a poure scoler, cope 

But he was lyk a maister or a pope. 

Of double worstede was his semycope, half cape 

That rounded as a belle out of the presse. stood out round Hke, 
Somwhat he lipsed, for his wantounesse, ^'Tffectatio^n 

265 To make his EngUssh swete upon his tonge ; 
And in his harpyng, whan that he hadde songe, 
His eyen twynkled in his heed aright, 
As doon the sterres in the frosty nyght 
This worthy lymytour was cleped Huberd. 

270 A Marchant was ther with a forked herd, 

In mottelee, and hye on horse he sat, motley (doth of mixed 

Upon his heed a Flaundrish bever hat ; Flemish 

His bootes clasped faire and fetisly. stylishly 

His reSOnS he Spak ful SOlempnely, reasons (conclusions), pompously 

275 Sownynge alway the encrees of his wynnyng. ^°^aiwa*^"to 

He wolde the see were kept for any thing kept free of piracy 

i^ J ^ at any cost 

Bitwixe Middelburgh and Orewelle. 

Wel coude he in eschaunge sheeldes selle. (moneyTatTgoodTa"e 

This worthy man ful wel his wit bisette ; applied 

280 Ther wiste no wight that he was in dette. 

So estatly was he of his governaunce, "^'^"'^fsdt"^^^^^^ 

With his bargaynes and with his chevisaunce. '" '° "^ey deaUngs 
Forsothe he was a worthy man with alle, truly 

But, sooth to seyn, I noot how men hym calle. know not 

285 A Clerk ther was of Oxenford also, Oxford 

That unto logik hadde longe ygo. gone (devoted himseio 

As leene was his hors as is a rake. 
And he nas nat right fat, I undertake, "^^^ """*' ^"^^^ffir^I 



lO 



CHAUCER 



But loked holwe, and therto soberly. 
290 Ful thredbare was his overeste courtepy, 

For he hadde geten hym yet no benefice, 

Ne was so worldly for to have office. 

For hym was levere have at his beddes heed 

Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed, 
295 Of Aristotle and his philosophic. 

Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrye. 

But al be that he was a philosophre, 

Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre, 

But al that he myghte of his freendes hente, 
300 On bookes and on lernynge he it spente, 

And bisily gan for the soules preye 

Of hem that yaf hym wherwith to scoleye. 

Of studie took he most cure and most hede. 

Noght o word spak he moore than was neede, 
305 And that was seyd in forme and reverence, 

And short and quyk and ful of hy sentence. 

Sownynge in moral vertu was his speche, 

And gladly wolde he lerne and gladly teche. 
A Sergeant of the La we, war and wys, 
310 That often hadde been at the Parvys, 

Ther was also, ful riche of excellence. 

Discreet he was, and of greet reverence — 

He semed swich, his wordes weren so wise. 

Justice he was ful often in assise 
315 By patente and by pleyn commissioun. 

For his science, and for his heigh renoun. 

Of fees and robes hadde he many oon. 

So greet a purchasour was nowher noon ; 

Al was fee symple to hym in effecte, 
320 His purchasynge myghte nat been infecte 

Nowher so bisy a man as he ther nas. 



hollow, melancholy 
outside short cloak 

as to hold an office 
more preferable to 



fiddle, psaltery 
although he 

get 



study 
care 

one 

in due form and with 
deference 

acute, lofty meaning 
conducive to 



discreet 
Parvis 



reputation demanding 
respect 

justice (acting judge), 
county sessions 

full 

knowledge 

a one 

conveyancer 

no more difficult than 

a fee simple 

conveyancing, made 

invalid 



CHAUCER 



II 



at his command, 
cases, decisions 

had befallen 



compose, draw up a 
document 



And yet he semed bisier than he was. 

In termes hadde he caas and doomes alle, 

That from the tyme of kyng William were f alle 
325 Therto he coude endite, and make a thyng, 

Ther coude no wight pynche at his writyng; take exception to 

And every statut coulde he pleyn by rote. knew, in fuii 

He rood but hoomly in a medlee cote without show, of mixed doth 

Girt with a ceynt of silk, with barres smale ; girdle, bars 

330 Of his array telle I no lenger tale. 

A Frankeleyn was in his compaignye. 

Whyt was his berd as is the dayesye. 

Of his complexioun he was sangwyn. 

Wei loved he by the morwe a sop in wyn. 
335 To liven in delit was ever his wone, 

For he was Epicurus owene sone, 

That heeld opinioun that pleyn delyt 

Was verraily felicitee parfit. 

An householdere, and that a greet, was he ; 
340 Seint Julian he was in his contree. 

His breed, his ale, was alwey after oon ; 

A bettre envyned man was nowher noon 

Withoute bake mete was never his hous. 

Of fish and flesh, and that so plentevous, 
345 It snewed in his house of mete and drynke, 

Of alle deyntees that men coude thynke. 

After the sondry sesons of the yeer. 

So chaunged he his mete and his soper. 

Ful many a fat partrich hadde he in mewe, 
350 And many a breem and many a luce in stewe 

Wo was his cook, but if his sauce were an evil day was it for, unless 

Poynaunt and sharp, and redy al his gere. ^°'^"^"''things'') 

His table dormant in his halle alway side table 

Stood redy covered al the longe day. 



Franklin 

sanguine 

morning, sop of bread 

enjoyment, wont 

complete 
perfect 

country-side 

of one kind (of the best) 

with a better stock of time 

plenteous 
snowed 



coop 

bream, luce 
(pike), pond 



12 



CHAUCER 



355 At sessiouns ther was he " lord " and " sire ' 
Ful ofte tyme he was Knyght of the Shire. 
An anlas, and a gipser al of silk, 
Heng at his girdle, whyt as morne milk, 
A shirreve hadde he been, and a countour ; 

360 Was nowher such a worthy vavasour. 

An Habberdassher and a Carpenter, 
A Webbe, a Dyere, and a Tapycer — 
And they were clothed alle in o liveree 
Of a solempne and greet fraternitee. 

365 Ful f ressh and newe hir geere apyked was ; 
Hir knyves were chaped noght with bras, 
But al with silver wroght ful clene and weel, 
Hir girdles and hir pouches everydeel. 
Wei semed ech of hem a fair burgeys, 

370 To sitten in a yeldehalle on a deys. 
Everich, for the wisdom that he can, 
Was shaply for to been an alderman. 
For catel hadde they ynogh and rente, 
And eek hir wyves wolde it wel assente ; 

375 And elles certeyn were they to blame — 
It is ful fair to been ycleped *' madame,'* 
And goon to vigilies al bifore. 
And have a mantel roialliche ybore. 

A Cook they hadde with hem for the nones, 

380 To boille the chiknes with the marybones. 
And poudre marchant tart, and galyngale. 



dagger, purse 

morning 

sheriff, auditor (?) 

vavasour 

Haberdasher 

Weaver, Upholsterer 

famous and 

dress, furbished up 

mounted 

every bit 

burgess 

^ gildhall, dais 

knew 

fit 

property, inconie 



vigils 

carried 

for the occasion 

marrow-bones 

powder marchant, 

galingale 

Wel coude he knowe a draughte of London ale. ^fiom others" 
He coude roste, and sethe, and broill, and frye, 
Maken mortreux, and wel bake a pye, thick soups 

385 But greet harm was it, as it thoughte me, 

That on his shyne a mormal hadde he; running sore 

For blankmanger, that made he with the beste. blancmange 



CHAUCER 



13 



hired nag, as well as 
he could 

coarse cloth 
lace 



A Shipman was ther, wonynge fer by weste : dwelling 

For aught I woot he was of Dertemouthe. know, Dartmouth 

390 He rood upon a rouncy, as he couthe, 

In a gowne of faldyng to the knee. 

A daggere hangyng on a laas hadde he 

Aboute his nekke under his arm adoun. 

The hoote somer hadde maad his hevve al broun ; 
395 And, certeynly, he was a good felawe. 

Ful many a draughte of wyn had he ydrawe 

From Burdeuxward, whyl that the chapman 
sleep. 

Of nyce conscience took he no keep. 

If that he faught, and hadde the hyer bond, 
400 By water he sente hem boom to every lond. 

But of his craft to rekene wel his tydes, 

His stremes and his daungers hym bisides, 

His herberwe and his moone, his lodemena2:e, Jarborage, (chang 

' o 'of the) moon, pilotage 

Ther nas noon swich from Hulle to Cartage. Carthage 

405 Hardy he was, and wys to undertake ; bold, in managing 

With many a tempest hadde his herd been shake. 

He knew wel alle the havenes, as they were, 

From Gootlond to the Cape of Fynystere, 

And every cryke in Britaigne and in Spayne. 
410 His barge ycleped was the Maudelayne. 
With us ther was a Doctour of Phisik, 

In al this world ne was ther noon hym lyk 

To speke of phisik and of surgerye ; 

For he was grounded in astronomye ; 
415 He kepte his pacient a ful greet deel 

In houres, by his magik naturel ; 

Wel coude he fortunen the ascendent 

Of his images for his pacient. 

He knew the cause of everich maladye, 



drawn 

Bordeaux, merchant 
(or supercargo) 

a scrupulous, heed 
fought, upper hand 

in his trade 

currents, dangerous 
places, close at hand 
es 



Gottland (in the 
Baltic), Finisterre 

creek 
ship 



Sec note on 11. 411-444 



14 



CHAUCER 



practitioner 



remedy 

electuaries 

make money 

Their 

Esculapius 

Descorides 

Hippocrates, Galen 

Rhasis, Avicen 

Averroes, Damascenus, 

Constantinus 

Bernardus, Gatesden, Gil- 

bertus Anglicus (?) 

moderate 



420 Were it of hoot, or cold, or moiste, or drye, See note 

And where engendred, and of what humour. 

He was a verrey parfit practisour. 

The cause yknowe, and of his harm the roote, 

Anon he yaf the seke man his boote. 
425 Ful redy hadde he his apothecaries, 

To sende hym drogges, and his letuaries. 

For ech of hem made other for to wynne; 

Hir frendschipe nas nat newe to bigynne. 

Wei knewe he the olde Esculapius, 
430 And Deyscorides, and eek Rufus, 

Old Ypocras, Haly, and Galyen, 

Serapion, Razis, and Avycen, 

Averrois, Damascien, and Constantyn, 

Bernard, and Gatesden, and Gilbertyn. 
435 Of his diete mesurable was he. 

For it was of no superfluitee. 

But of greet norissyng and digestible. 

His studie was but litel on the Bible. 

In sangwyn and in pers he clad was al, 
440 Lyned with taffata and with sendal ; 

And yet he was but esy of dispence. 

He kepte that he wan in pestilence ; 

For gold in phisik is a cordial, 

Therfor he lovede gold in special. 
445 A good Wyf was ther of biside Bathe, 

But she was som del deef, and that was 
scathe. 

Of cloothmakyng she hadde swich an haunt, skiii 

She passed hem of Ypres and of Gaunt, surpassed, Ypres, Ghent 

In al the parisshe wyf ne was ther noon 
450 That to the offryinge bifore hire sholde goon; 

And if ther dide, certeyn so wrooth was she, wroth 



red (stuff), blue (stuff) 

taffeta, sendal (silk) 

sparing in expenditure 

the plague 

is (used as) a cordial 

especially 



somewhat, misfortune 
C* a pity") 



CHAUCER 15 

That she was out of alle Charitee. love and charity (towards her fellows) 

Hir coverchief s ful fyne were of ground, kerchiefs, texture 

I dorste swere they weyeden ten pound, 
455 That on a Sonday weren upon hir heed. 
Hir hosen weren of fyn scarlet reed, 
Ful streite yteyd, and shoes ful moyste and tig^uy, pH^bie (not 

newe. dry and hard) 

Boold was hir face, and fair, and reed of hewe. 

She was a worthy womman al hir lyve, 
46oHousbondes at chirche-dore she hadde fyve, 

Withouten oother compaignye in youthe 

(But therof nedeth nat to speke as nouthe). just now 

And thries hadde she been at Jerusalem ; 

She hadde passed many a straunge strem ; 
465 At Rome she hadde been, and at Boloigne, Boulogne 

In Galice at Seynt Jame, and at Coloigne; Gaiicia, Cologne 

She coude muchel of wandrynge by the weye. 

Gat-tOthed was she, SOOthly for to Sey e. she had teeth wide apart 

Upon an amblere esily she sat, ambling horse 

470 Ywympled wel, and on hir heed an hat covered with a wimpie 

As brood as is a bokeler or a targe ; buckler, target (shield) 

A foot mantel aboute hir hipes large, foot-cioak (serving as a habit) 

And on hir feet a paire of spores sharpe. 

In felaweship wel coude she laughe and carpe. goo^ co"^pany» 
475 Of remedies of love she knew per chaunce, 

For she coude of that art the olde daunce. the old game 

A good man was ther of religioun. 

And was a povre Persoun of a toun ; Parson 

But riche he was of holy thoght and werk ; 
480 He was also a lerned man, a clerk. 

That Cristes gospel trewely wolde preche ; 

His parisshens devoutly wolde he teche. parishioners 

Benygne he was, and wonder diligent, wondrous 



i6 CHAUCER 

And in adversitee ful pacient ; 

485 And swich he was ypreved ofte sithes. proved, times 

Ful looth were hym to cursen for his tithes, """"^excS^nkl^b^ 
But rather wolde he yeven, out of doute, 
Unto his povre parisshens aboute 
Of his offryng and eek of his substaunce ; offerings, property 

490 He coude in Htel thyng have suffisaunce. find a sufficiency 

Wyd was his parisshe, and houses fer asonder, 
But he ne laf te nat, for reyn ne thonder, ceased not 

In siknesse nor in meschief to visite misfortune 

The f erreste in his parisshe, muche and lite, ^^''^^''^ ^'^^ ^^^ 

495 Upon his feet, and in his bond a staf . 

This noble ensample to his sheep he yaf, example 

That first he wroghte, and afterward he taughte. ^preidfe'd 
Oiit of the gospel he tho wordes caughte, those, took 

And this figure he added eek therto, figure of speech 

500 That '' if gold ruste, what shal yren do ? '' 
For if a preest be foul, on whom we truste, 
No wonder is a lewed man to ruste ; is it if an ignorant man rust 

And shame it is, if a preest take keep, take heed 

A shiten shepherde and a clene sheep. defiled 

505 Wei oghte a preest ensample for to yive 

By his clennesse how that his sheep shold live. 

He sette nat his benefice to hyre. 

And leet his sheep encombred in the myre, left 

And ran to London, unto Seinte Poules, 

510 To seken hym a chaunterie for soules, chantry 

Or with a bretherhed to been withholde ; brotherhood, maintained 
But dwelte at hoom, and kepte wel his folde. 
So that the wolf ne made it nat myscarie ; 
He was a shepherde and noght a mercenarie. hireling 

515 And though he hooly were and vertuous, 

He was to synful man nat despitous, unmerciful 



CHAUCER 



17 



Ne of his speche daungerous ne digne, forbidding, condescending 

But in his techyng discreet and benygne ; 

To drawen folk to heven by fairnesse, 
520 By good ensample, this was his bisynesse ; 

But it were any persone obstynat, except 

What so he were, of heigh or lowe estat, 

Hym wolde he snybben sharply for the nonys. '"p'°^"' ^°;/^^ 

A bettre preest I trowe that nowher noon ys. 
525 He wayted after no pompe and reverence, looked for, special 

Ne maked him a spiced conscience, the pretense of a scrupulous 

But Cristes loore and his apostles twelve 

He taughte, but first he folwed it hymselve. 

With him ther was a Plowman, was his brother, 
530 That hadde ylad of dong f ul many a f other. carted, load 

A trewe swynkere and a good was he, toiler 

Lyvynge in pees and parfit charitee. 

God loved he best with al his hoole herte 

At alle tymes, thogh hym gamed or smerte, ^^^^^^^^Jifo'rhard 
535 And thanne his neighebour right as hymselve. 

He wolde thresshe, and therto dyke and delve, ditch, dig 

For Cristes sake, for every povre wight, 

Withouten hyre, if it lay in his myght. 

His tythes payed he ful faire and wel, 
540 Bothe of his propre swynk and his catel. own labor, property 

In a tabard he rood upon a mere. frock 

Ther was also a Reve and a Millere, Reeve 

A SOMNOUR and a Pardoner also, Summoner, Pardoner 

A M AUNciPLE, and myself ; there were namo. Manciple, no more 
545 The Miller was a stout carl, for the nones, feiiow, to be sure 
Ful big he was of braun and eek of bones ; brawn (muscle) 

That proved wel, for overal ther he cam, proved itself true 

At wrastlynge he wolde havealwey the ram. ram (as a prize) 
H^ was short-sholdred, brood, a thikke knarre, '^^"^^^ ^"^jjj^ 



i8 



CHAUCER 



sso Ther nas no dore that he noolde heve of harre, ^eavefrom its 

'■^^ ' hinges 

Or breke it at a rennying with his heed. by running at it 

His herd as any sowe or fox was reed, 

And therto brood, as though it were a spade. 

Upon the cop right of his nose he hade top 

555 A werte, and theron stood a tuft of herys, 

Reed as the bristles of a sowes eres. 

His nosethirles blake were and wide. nostrils, black 

A swerd and bokeler bar he by his syde. 

His mouth as greet was as a greet forneys; 
560 He was a janglere and a goHardeys, loud talker, teikr of loose stories 

And that was most of synne and harlotryes. 

Wei coude he stelen corn and tollen thryes. 

And yet he hadde a thombe of gold, pardee. 

A whyt cote and a blew hood wered he. 
565 A baggepipe wel coude he blowe and sowne, 

And ther withal he broghte us out of towne. 
A gentil Maunciple was ther of a temple. 

Of which achatours myghte take exemple 

For to be wise in bying of vitaille. 
570 For, whether that he payde or took by taille, 

Algate he wayted so in his achaat, 

That he was ay biforn and in good staat. 

Now is not that of God a ful fair grace. 

That swich a lewed mannes wit shal pace 
575 The wisdom of an heep of lerned men ! 

Of maistres hadde he mo than thries ten, 

That were of lawe expert and curious ; 

Of whiche ther were a doseyn in that hous. 

Worthy to been stywardes of rente and lond 
580 Of any lord that is in Engelond, 

To make hym lyve by his propre good, upon his own fortune 

In honour dettelees, but he were wood, without debt, mad 



evil ways 

take toll 

See note 

wore 

sound 



Manciple, temple 
(inn of court) 

purchasers 



by tally (on credit) 

watched, buying 

ahead 

ignorant, surpass 



income 



CHAUCER 



19 



Or lyve as scarsly as hym list desire ; economically 

And able for to helpen al a shire a whole 

585 In any cas that myghte f alle or happe ; 

And yit this Maunciple sette hir aller cappe. made foois of them aii 
The Reve was a sclendre, colerik man, Reeve (steward), imtabk 

His herd was shave as ny as ever he can. 

His heer was by his eres round yshorn. 
590 His top was dokked lyk a preest biforn. 

Ful longe were his legges and ful lene 

Ylyk a staf, ther was no calf ysene. 

Wei coude he kepe a gerner and a bynne ; 

Ther was noon auditour coude on hym wynne 
595 Wei wiste he by the droghte and by the reyn 

The yeldyng of his seed and of his greyn. 

His lordes sheep, his neet, his dayeyre. 

His swyn, his hors, his stoor, and his pultrye, 

Was hoolly in this reves governynge, 
600 And by his covenant yaf the rekenynge, 

Syn that his lord was twenty yeer of age. 

Ther coude no man brynge him in arrerage. prove him in arrears 

Ther nas baillif, ne herde, ne oother hyne, herdsman, farm laborer 

That he ne knew his sleighte and his covyne ; 
605 They were adrad of hym as of the deeth. 

His wonyng was ful fair upon an heeth. 

With grene trees shadwed was his place. 
■ He coude bettre than his lord purchace. 

Ful riche he was astored prively, 
610 His lord wel coude he plesen subtilly. 

To yeve and lene hym of his owene good. 

And have a thank and yet a cote and hood. 

In youthe he hadde lerned a good myster ; 

He was a wel good wrighte, a carpenter. 
615 This Reve sat upon a ful good stot, 



granary 
auditor 



cattle 
horses, stock 

(he) gave 



deceit 

dwelling 

buy 

richly, provided with stores 

craftily 

lend, property 

also (a gift of) 

• trade 

cob (horse) 



20 CHAUCER 

That was al pomely grey and highte Scot. dappled 

A long SUrCOte of perS upon he hade, over-garment, blue (cloth) 

And by his syde he bar a rusty blade. 
Of Northfolk was this Reve, of which I telle, Norfolk 

620 Biside a toun men clepen Baldeswelle. Bawdesweii 

Tiikked he was, as is a frere, aboute His coat was tucked up lik^e a 

And ever he rood the hyndreste of oure route. last, company 

A SoMNOUR was ther with us in that place, Summoner 

That hadde a fir-reed cherubynnes face, cherub's 
625 For sawcefleem he was, with eyen narwe. pimply red with salt phlegm 

As hot he was, and lecherous as a sparwe, amorous 

With scalled browes blake, and piled herd ; scabby, thin 
Of his visage children were aferd. 

Ther nas quyksilver, lytarge, ne brimstoon, litharge 

630 Boras, CerUCe, ne Oille of Tartre noon, borax, ceruse, cream of tartar 

Ne oynement that wolde dense and byte. 

That hym myghte helpen of his w^helkes white, blotches 

Nor of the knobbes sittynge on his chekes. 

Wei loved he garleek, oynons, and eek lekes, 
635 And for to drynken strong wyn, reed as blood. 

Thanne wolde he speke, and crie as he were wood. 

And whan that he wel dronken hadde the wyn, 

Than wolde he speke no word but Latyn. 

A fewe termes hadde he, two or thre, 
640 That he had lerned out of som decree; document 

No wonder is, he herde it al the day ; 

And eek ye knowen wel how that a jay 

Can clepen " Watte " as well as can the pope, ^^"for waTr) 

But whoso coude in oother thyng hym grope, test 

645 Thanne hadde he spent al his philosophic ; (k^n^owkd'g^e^ 

Ay '''Questio, quid iuris f " wolde he crie. 

He was a gentil harlot and a kynde; 

A bettre felawe sholde men noght fynde. feiiow 



CHAUCER 



21 



He wolde suffre for a quart of wyn permit 

650 A good f elawe to have his concubyn 

A twelf month, and excuse hym atte f ulle ; to the fuii 

And prively a fynch eek couth he pulle. p^^^^ a finch (swindk^a 
And if he fond oowher a good felawe, anywhere 

He wolde techen him to have noon awe 

655 In Swich CaS of the erCedekeneS curs, archdeacon's excommunication 

But if a mannes soule were in his purs — 
For in his purs he sholde ypunysshed be ; 
" Purs is the ercedekenes helle," seyde he. 
But wel I woot he lyed right in dede ; 
660 Of cursying oghte ech gilty man him drede, 
For curs wol slee right as assoillyng savith. 
And also war hym of a Significavit. 
In daunger hadde he at his owene gyse ^is control, by means of^h^s 

young people, diocese 

adviser of them all 

garland 

See note 



a curse will slay, 
absolution 

beware 



The yonge girles of the diocise, 

665 And knew hir conseil, and was al hir reed 
A gerland hadde he set upon his heed, 
As greet as it were for an ale- stake ; 
A bokeler hadde he maad hym of a cake. 
With hym ther rood a gentil Pardoner, 

670 Of Rouncivale, his f rend and his compeer. 
That streight was comen fro the court of Rome 
Full loude he song, " Com hider, love, to me.'* 
This somnour bar to hym a stif burdoun. 
Was never trompe of half so greet a soun. 

67s This pardoner hadde heer as yelow as wex, 
But smothe it heng, as dooth a strike of flex ; 
By ounces henge his lokkes that he hadde. 
And therewith he his shuldres overspradde ; 
But thynne it lay, by colpons oon and oon ; 

680 But hood, for jolitee, ne wered he noon. 
For it was trussed up in his walet. 



close comrade 



burden (bass) 



hank of flax 
in bunches 



m separate portions 
one by one 



wallet 



22 



CHAUCER 



Hym thoughte he rood al of the newe jet; in the new fashion 

Dischevele, save his cappe, he rood al bare. with hair loose 

Swiche glarynge eyen hadde he as an hare. shiny (staring) 

685 A vernycle hadde he sowed upon his cappe ; vemicie 

His walet lay biforn hym in his lappe, 

Bret-ful of pardoun come from Rome al hoot. brimfuii 

A voys he hadde as smal as hath a goot. 

No herd hadde he, ne never sholde have, 
690 As smothe it was as it were late yshave ; 

I trow he were a geldyng or a mare. 

Biit of his craft, fro Berwyk unto Ware, 

Ne was ther swich another pardoner. 

For in his male he hadde a pilwebeer, bag, piiiow case 

695 Which that he seyde was Our Lady veyl : 

He seyde he hadde a gobet of the seyl piece 

That Seynt Peter hadde whan that he wente 

Upon the see, til Jhesu Crist hym hente. took 

He hadde a croys of latoun, ful of stones, ^^'°" ^^" ^"^^ f^^^Pi^",; 
700 And in a glas he hadde pigges bones. 

But with thise relikes, whan that he fond relics 

A poure person dwellyng upon lond, in the country 

Upon a day he gat hym moore moneye 

Than that the person gat in monthes tweye. parson 

70s And thus with feyned flaterye and japes, jokes 

He made the person and the peple his apes. *'made monkeys of 

But trewely to tellen, atte laste. 

He was in chirche a noble ecclesiaste; 

Wei coude he rede a lessoun or a storie, 
710 But alderbest he song an offertorie. 

For wel he wiste, when that song was songe, 

He moste preche and wel affile his tonge 

To Wynne silver, as he ful wel coude ; 

Therefore he song the murierly and loude. 



after all 

ecclesiastic 

legend (saint's life) 

best of all, offertory 

polish 
so merrily 



CHAUCER 23 

715 ' Now have I told you shortly, in a clause, in a sentence 

• Thestat, tharray, the nombre, and eke the cause '^^ ^'^^IVray 

Why that assembled was this compaignye 

In Southwerk, at this gentil hostelrye, 

That highte the Tabard, faste by the Belle. 
720 But now is tyme to yow for to telle 

How that we baren us that ilke nyght, conducted ourselves 

Whan we were in that hostelrye alyght, had alighted 

And after wol I telle of our viage, 

And al the remenaunt of our pilgrymage. 
725 But first I pray yow of your curteisye. 

That ye narette it nat my vileinye, ^'"^^^» *° ^^"^ °^ ^'^^^^^ °"p^y 

Thogh that I pleynly speke in this matere, 

To telle yow hir wordes and hir chere ; behavior 

Ne thogh I speke hir wordes proprely. precisely 

730 For this ye knowen al so wel as I, 

Who-so shal telle a tale after a man. 

He moot reherce as ny as evere he can 

Everich a word, if it be in his charge, every 

Al speke he never so rudeliche and large ; although, roughly, 
735 Or ellis he moot telle his tale untrewe, in an untrue fashion 

Or feyne thyng, or f ynde wordes newe. make up a thing, different 

He may nat spare, althogh he were his brother ; 

He moot as wel seye o word as another. 

Crist spak hymself ful brode in Holy Writ, broadly 

740 And wel ye woot, no vileinye is it. evil 

Eek Plato seith, whoso can hym rede, 

"The wordes moote be cosyn to the dede.'* 

Also I pray yow to foryeve it me, 

Al have I nat set folk in hir degree although, in order of rank 

745 Here in this tale, as that they sholde stonde ; 

My wit is short, ye may wel understonde. 
Greet chere made our Hooste us everichon. 



24 



CHAUCER 



it pleased us 

marshal 

bright 

Cheapside 



to make sport 



entertamment 



paid our bills 



And to the soper sette he us anon ; 

And served us with vitaille at the beste. 
750 Strong was the wyn, and wel to drynke us leste. 

A semely man our Hooste was withalle 

For to have been a marchal in an halle ; 

A large man he was with eyen stepe, 

A fairer burgeys is ther noon in Chepe : 
755 Bold of his speche, and wys, and wel ytaught, 

And of manhod hym lakkede right naught. 

Eek therto he was right a myrie man, 

And after soper pleyen he bigan, 

And spak of myrthe amonges othere thynges, 
760 Whan that we hadde maad our rekenynges; 

And seyde thus, " Now, lordynges, trewely 

Ye been to me right welcome, hertely : 

For by my trouthe, if that I shal nat lye, 

I saugh noght this yeer so myrie a compaignye 
765 At ones in this herberwe as is now. 

Fayn wolde I doon yow myrthe, wiste I how ^'"^^rAnevrhow 

And of a myrthe I am right now bithoght. 

To doon yow ese, and it shal coste noght. 

Ye goon to Caunterbury — God yow spede, 
770 The blisf ul martir quite yow your mede. 

And, wel I woot, as ye goon by the weye. 

Ye shapen yow to talen and to pleye ; 

For, trewely, confort ne mirthe is noon 

To ride by the weye doumb as a stoon ; 
775 And therf or wol I maken yow disport, 

As I seyde erst, and doon yow som confort. 

And if yow lyketh alle, by oon assent, 

N6w for to stonden at my jugement. 

And for to werken as I shal yow seye, 
780 Tomorwe, whan ye riden by the weye, 



at one time 



amusement, have 
beihought me 



requite, meed 



intend, tell stories, 
have sport 



sport 



it likes you 



CHAUCER 25 

Now, by my fader soule that is deed, 

But ye be merye, I wol yeve yow myn heed. 

Hold up your bond, withouten more speche." 

Our counseil was nat longe for to seche ; seek 

785 Us though te it was noght worth to make it wys, ^ ""Xugh't 

And graunted hym withouten more avys, assented, deliberation 

And bad hym seye his verdit as hym leste. verdict 

" Lordynges," quod he, **now herkneth for the beste ; 

But tak it not, I prey yow, in desdeyn ; 
790 This is the poynt, to speken short and pleyn, 

That ech of yow, to shorte with your weye shorten thereby 

In this viage, shal telle tales tweye, joumey, two 

To Caunterbury-ward, I mene it so, 

And homward he shal tellen othere two, 
795 Of aventures that whilom ban bifalle. 

And which of yow that bereth hym best of alle. 

That is to seyn, that telleth in this cas 

Tales of best sentence and most solas, '^^' ''' ""^ and am"^^^^^^^ 

Shall have a soper at our aller cost ofusaii 

800 Here in this place, sittynge by this post, 

Whan that we come agayn fro Caunterbury. 

And for to make yow the moore mury, 

I wol myselven gladly with yow ride, 

Right at myn owene cost, and be youre gyde. 
805 And who-so wol my jugement withseye decision, gainsay 

Shal paye al that we spenden by the weye. 

And if ye vouchesauf that it be so, 

Tel me anon, withouten wordes mo. 

And I wol erly shape me therfore." prepare myself 

810 This thyng was graunted, and our othes swore swom 

With f ul glad herte, and preyden hym also (we) prayed 

That he wold vouchesauf for do so, 

And that he wolde been oure governour, 



26 CHAUCER 

And of oure tales juge and reportour, reporter 

815 And sette a soper at a certeyn pris, 

And we wol reuled been at his devys, by his direction 

In heigh and lough ; and thus, by oon assent, 

We been acorded to his jugement, ^whh^pian 

And therupon the wyn was fet anoon, fetched 

820 We dronken, and to reste wente echoon, 

Withouten any lenger taryinge. 

A-morwe, whan that day bigan to sprynge, on the morrow 

Up roos oure Hoost, and was our aller cok, cock for us aii 

And gadrede us togidre alle in a flok, 
825 And forth we riden, a litel moore than pas, a walk 

Unto the wateryng of seynt Thomas. watering-piace 

And there our Hoost bigan his hors areste, to stop 

And seyde, *^ Lordynges, herkneth, if yow leste. 

Ye woot youre forward, and it yow recorde. promise, remind 
830 If even-song and morwe-song accorde, agree 

Lat se now who shal telle the firste tale. 

As evere mote I drynke wyn or ale, 

Who-so be rebel to my jugement 

Shal paye for al that by the weye is spent. 
835 Now dra'weth cut, er that we f errer twynne. lots, farther go 

He which that hath the shorteste shal bigynne." 
" Sir Knyght," quod he, ** my mayster and my lord. 

Now draweth cut, for that is myn accord. agreement 

Cometh neer," quod he, *' my lady Prioresse ; 
840 And ye, sire Clerk, lat be your shamef astnesse, gWe up, shyness 

Ne studieth noght; ley bond to, every man.'' to it 

Anon to drawen every wight began. 

And, shortly for to tellen as it was. 

Were it by aventure or sort or cas, fortune, destiny, chance 

845 The sothe is this, the cut fil to the knyght, truth 

Of which f ul blithe and glad was every wyght ; one 



CHAUCER 27 

And telle he moste his tale, as was resoun, right 

By forward and by COmpOSicioun, promise, agreement 

As ye han herd ; what nedeth wordes mo ? 
850 And whan this goode man saugh that it was so, 

As he that wys was and obedient 

To kepe his forward by his free assent, 

He seyde, ** Syn I shal bigynne the game, 

What, welcome be the cut, a Goddes name ! 
H55 Now lat us ryde, and herkneth what I seye/' 

And with that word we riden forth oure weye ; 

And he bigan with right a myrie chere 

His tale anon, and seyde in this manere. 

Heere endith the prolog of this book ; and heere bigynneth the first 
tale which is the K^tyghtes Tale, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 

[A. 859-3108] 

lamque domos pairias^ Scithice post aspera gentis 
Prelia^ laurigero, etc. 

Part • I 

Whylom, as olde stories tellen us, 

Ther was a duk that highte Theseus ; 860 

Of Athenes he was lord and governour, 

And in his tyme swich a conquerour, 

That gretter was ther noon under the sonne ; 

Ful many a riche contree hadde he wonne. 

What with his wisdom and his chivalrye 865 

He conquered al the regne of Femenye, 

That whylom was ycleped Scithia ; 

And weddede the queene Ypolita, 

And broghte hir hoom with him in his contree 

With muchel glorie and greet solempnitee, 870 

And eek hir faire suster Emelye. 

And thus with victorie and with melodye 

Lete I this noble duk to Athenes ryde, 

And al his hoost in armes him bisyde. 

And certes, if it nere to long to here, 875 

I wolde han told yow fully the manere 
How wonnen was the regne of Femenye 
By Theseus and by his chivalrye, 
And of the grete bataille for the nones 
Bitwixen Athenes and Amazones, 880 

And how asseged was Ypolita, 

28 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 29 

The faire, hardy queene of Scithia, 

And of the feste that was at hir weddinge, 

And of the tempest at hir hoom-cominge ; 

But al that thing I moot as now forbere. 885 

I have, God woot, a large feeld to ere, 

And wayke been the oxen in my plough. 

The remenant of the tale is long ynough ; 

I wol nat letten eek noon of this route, 

Lat every felawe telle his tale aboute, 890 

And lat see now who shall the soper winne — 

And ther I lefte, I wol ageyn biginne. 

This duk, of whom I make mencioun, 
When he was come almost unto the toun 895 

In al his wele and in his moste pryde. 
He was war, as he caste his eye asyde. 
Where that ther kneled in the hye weye 
A companye of ladyes, tweye and tweye, 
Ech after other, clad in clothes blake ; 
But swich a cry and swich a wo they make, 900 

That in the world nys creature livinge. 
That herde swich another weymentinge ; 
And of this cry they nolde nevere stenten. 
Till they the reynes of his brydel henten. 

" What folk ben ye, that at myn hom-cominge 905 

Perturben so my feste with cryinge ? " 
Quod Theseus, *^ Have ye so greet envye 
Of myn honour, that thus compleyne and crye ? 
Or who hath yow misboden, or offended ? 
And telleth me if it may been amended ; 910 

And why that ye been clothed thus in blak? '' 

The eldest lady of hem alle spak. 
Whan she hadde swowned with a deedly chere 



30 CHAUCER 

That it was routhe for to seen and here, 

And seyde, ** Lord, to whom Fortune hath yiven 915 

Victorie, and as a conquerour to liven, 

Noght greveth us your glorie and your honour ; 

But we biseken mercy and socour. 

Have mercy on our wo and our distresse ; 

Some drope of pitee, thurgh thy gentillesse, 920 

Upon us wrecched wommen lat thou falle. 

For certes, lord, ther is noon of us alle, 

That she ne hath been a duchesse or a quene ; 

Now be we caitifs, as it is wel sene, 

Thanked be Fortune, and hir false wheel, 925 

That noon estat assureth to be weel. 

And certes, lord, to abyden your presence, 

Here in the temple of the goddesse Clemence 

We han been waitinge all this f ourtenight ; 

Now help us, lord, sith it is in thy might. 930 

** I wrecche, which that wepe and waille thus, 
Was whylom wyf to king Capaneus, 
That starf at Thebes, cursed be that day ! 
And alle we, that been in this array, 

And maken al this lamentacioun, 935 

We losten alle our housbondes at that toun, 
Whyl that the seege theraboute lay. 
And yet now the olde Creon, weylaway ! 
That lord is now of Thebes the citee, 
Fulfild of ire and of iniquitee, 940 

He, for despyt and for his tirannye, 
To do the dede bodyes vileinye 
Of alle our lordes, whiche that ben slawe, 
Hath alle the bodyes on an heep ydrawe, 
And wol nat suffren hem, by noon assent, 945 

Neither to been yburied nor ybrent, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 31 

But maketh houndes ete hem in despit." 

And with that word, withouten more respit, 

They fillen gruf, and cryden pitously, 

** Have on us wrecched wommen som mercy, 950 

And lat our sorwe sinken in thyn herte." 

This gentil duk doun from his courser sterte 
With herte pitous, whan he herde hem speke. 
Him thoughte that his herte wolde breke, 
Whan he saugh hem so pitous and so mat 955 

That whylom weren of so greet estat. 
And in his armes he hem alle up hente, 
And hem conforteth in ful good entente, 
And swoor his ooth, as he was trewe knight, 
He wolde doon so ferforthly his might 960 

Upon the tyraunt Creon hem to wreke, 
That al the peple of Grece sholde speke 
How Creon was of Theseus yserved, 
As he that hadde his deeth ful wel deserved. 
And right anoon, withouten more abood, 965 

His baner he desplayeth, and forth rood 
To Thebes-ward, and al his host bisyde ; 
No neer Athenes wolde he go ne ryde, 
Ne take his ese fully half a day, 

But onward on his way that nyght he lay, 970 

And sente anoon Ypolita the queue, 
And Emelye, hir yonge suster shene. 
Unto the toun of Athenes to dwelle. 
And forth he rit ; ther nis namore to telle. 

The rede statue of Mars with spere and targe 975 

So shyneth in his whyte larger bane, 
That alle the feeldes gliteren up and doun ; 
And by his baner born is his penoun 
Of gold ful riche, in which ther was ybete 



32 CHAUCER 

The Minotaur, which that he slough in Crete. 980 

Thus rit this duk, thus rit this conquerour, 

And in his host of chivalrye the flour, 

Til that he cam to Thebes, and alighte 

Faire in a feeld, ther as he thoughte fighte. 

But shortly for to speken of this thing, 985 

With Creon, which that was of Thebes king, 

He faught, and slough him manly as a knight 

In pleyn bataille, and putte the folk to flight, 

And by assaut he wan the citee after. 

And rente adoun bothe wal and sparre and rafter, 990 

And to the ladyes he restored agayn 

The bones of hir housbondes that were slayn. 

To doon obsequies, as was tho the gyse. 

But it were al to long for to devyse 

The grete clamour and the waymentinge 995 

That the ladyes made at the brenninge 

Of the bodyes, and the grete honour 

That Theseus, the noble conquerour, 

Doth to the ladyes, whan they from him wente ; 

But shortly for to telle is myn entente. 1000 

Whan that this worthy duk, this Theseus, 
Hath Creon slayn, and wonne Thebes thus, 
Stille in that feeld he took al night his reste. 
And dide with al the contree as him leste. 

To ransake in the tas of bodyes dede, 1005 

Hem for to strepe of barneys and of wede, 
The pilours diden bisinesse and cure. 
After the bataille and disconfiture. 
And so bifel that in the tas they founde, 
Thurgh-girt with many a grevous, blody wounde, loio 

Two yonge knightes ligging by and by, 
Bothe in oon armes, wroght f ul richely ; 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 



33 



Of whiche two Arcita hight that oon, 

And that other knight hight Palamon. 

Nat fully quike, ne fully dede they were, 1015 

But by hir cote-armures and by hir gere, 

The heraudes knewe hem best in special, 

As they that weren of the blood royal 

Of Thebes, and of sustren two yborn. 

Out of the tas the pilours han hem torn, 1020 

And han hem caried softe unto the tente 

Of Theseus, and ful sone he hem sente 

To Athenes, to dwellen in prisoun 

Perpetuelly, he nolde no raunsoun. 

And whan this worthy duk hath thus ydon, 1025 

He took his host and hoom he rood anon 

With laurer crowned as a conquerour ; 

And there he liveth in joye and in honour 

Terme of his lyf ; what nedeth wordes mo ? 

And in a tour, in angwish and in wo, 1030 

Dwellen this Palamon and eek Arcite, 

For evermore, ther may no gold hem quite. 

This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day. 
Til it fil ones, in a morwe of May, 

That Emelye, that fairer was to sene 1035 

Than is the liHe upon his stalke grene, 
And f ressher than the May with floures newe — 
For with the rose colour strof hir hewe, 
I noot which was the fairer of hem two — 
Er it were day, as was hir wone to do, 1040 

She was arisen and al redy dight ; 
For May wol have no slogardye anight ; 
The sesoun priketh every gentil herte, 
And maketh him out of his slepe to sterte, 
And seith, " Arys, and do thyn observaunce.** 1045 



34 CHAUCER 

This maked Emelye have remembraunce 

To doon honour to May, and for to ryse. 

Yclothed was she f ressh, for to devyse ; 

Hir yelow heer was broyded in a tresse 

Bihinde hir bak a yerde long, I gesse. 1050 

And in the gardyn, at the sonne upriste, 

She walketh up and doun, and, as hir liste, 

She gadereth floures, party whyte and rede, 

To make a subtil gerland for hir hede. 

And as an aungel hevenisshly she song. 1055 

The grete tour, that was so thikke and strong, 
Which of the castel was the chief dongeoun, 
Ther as the knightes weren in prisoun, 
Of which I tolde yow, and tellen shal, 
Was evene joynant to the gardyn-wal, 1060 

Ther as this Emelye hadde hir pleyinge. 
Bright was the sonne, and cleer that morweninge. 
And Palamon, this woful prisoner, 
As was his wone, by leve of his gayler, 
Was risen, and romed in a chambre on heigh, 1065 

In which he al the noble citee seigh, 
And eek the gardyn, ful of braunches grene, 
Ther as this fresshe Emelye the shene 
Was in hir walk, and romed up and doun. 
This sorwetul prisoner, this Palamoun, 1070 

Goth in the chambre roming to and fro, 
And to himself compleyning of his wo ; 
That he was born, ful of te he seyde, " Alas ! '* 
And so bifel, by aventure or cas. 

That thurgh a window, thikke of many a barre 1075 

Of iren, greet and square as any sparre, 
He caste his eye upon Emelya, 
And therwithal he bleynte, and cryde " A ! '' 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 35 

As though he stongen were unto the herte. 

And with that cry Arcite anon up-sterte, 1080 

And seyde, ** Cosyn niyn, what eyleth thee, 

That art so pale and deedly on to see ? 

Why cridestow ? who hath thee doon offence ? 

For Goddes love, tak al in pacience 

Our prisoun, for it may non other be ; 1085 

Fortune hath yeven us this adversitee. 

Som wikke aspect or disposicioun 

Of Saturne, by sum constellacioun, 

Hath yeven us this, although we hadde it sworn ; 

So stood the heven whan that we were born ; 1090 

We moste endure — this is the short and playn." 

This Palamon answerde, and seyde agayn, 
" Cosyn, for sothe, of this opinioun 
Thou hast a veyn ymaginacioun ; 

This prison caused me nat for to crye, 1095 

But I was hurt right now thurghout myn ye 
Into myn herte, that wol my bane be. 
The fairnesse of that lady, that I see 
Yond in the gardyn romen to and fro. 
Is cause of al my crying and my wo. iioo 

I noot wher she be womman or goddesse, 
But Venus is it, sothly, as I gesse.'' 
And therwithal on knees doun he fil. 
And seyde, " Venus, if it be thy wil 

Yow in this gardyn thus to transfigure 1105 

Bifore me, sorweful wrecche creature, 
Out of this prisoun help that we may scapen. 
And if so be my destynee be shapen 
By eterne word to dyen in prisoun. 

Of our lynage have som compassioun, mo 

That is so lowe ybroght by tirannye." 



36 CHAUCER 

And with that word Arcite gan esype 

Wheras this lady romed to and fro, 

And with that sighte hir beautee hurte him so, 

That if that Palamon was wounded sore, 1115 

Arcite is hurt as moche as he, or more. 

And with a sigh he seyde pitously, 

'' The fresshe beautee sleeth me sodeynly 

Of hir that rometh in the yonder place ; 

And but I have hir mercy and hir grace, 1120 

That I may seen hir atte leste weye, 

I nam but deed ; ther nis namore to seye/' 

This Palamon, whan he tho wordes herde, 
Dispitously he loked, and answerde : 

*' Whether seistow this in ernest or in pley ? " 1125 

"Nay," quod Arcite, **in ernest, by my fey ! 
God help me so, me list ful evele pleye." 

This Palamon gan knitte his browes tweye : 
** It nere," quod he, ** to thee no greet honour 
For to be fals, ne for to be traitour 1130 

To me, that am thy cosyn and thy brother 
Ysworn ful depe, and ech of us til other. 
That never, for to dyen in the peyne. 
Til that deeth departe shal us tweyne. 
Neither of us in love to hindren other, 1135 

Ne in noon other cas, my leve brother ; 
But that thou sholdest trewely forthren me 
In every cas, and I shall forthren thee. 
This was thyn 00th, and myn also, certeyn ; 
I wot right wel thou darst it nat withseyn. 1140 

Thus artow of my counseil, out of doute. 
And now thou woldest falsly been aboute 
To love my lady, whom I love and serve, 
And ever shal, til that myn herte sterve. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 37 

Nay certes, fals Arcite, thou shalt nat so. 1145 

I loved hir first, and tolde thee my wo 

As to my counseil, and my brother sworn 

To forthre me, as I have told biforn. 

For which thou art ybounden as a knight 

To helpen me, if it lay in thy might, 1150 

Or elles artow fals, I dar wel seyn." 

This Arcite f ul proudly spak ageyn, 

*' Thou shalt," quod he, '' be rather fals than I ; 

And thou art fals, I telle thee, utterly ; 

For par amour I loved hir first er thow. 1155 

What wiltow seyn ? thou wistest nat yet now 

Whether she be a womman or goddesse ! 

Thyn is affeccioun of holinesse. 

And myn is love as to a creature ; 

For which I tolde thee myn aventure 1160 

As to my cosyn, and my brother sworn. 

I pose that thou lovedest hir biforn ; 

Wostow nat wel the olde clerkes sawe. 

That * who shal yeve a lovere any lawe ? * 

Love is a gretter lawe, by my pan, 1165 

Than may be yeve to any erthly man. 

And therfore positif lawe and swich decree 

Is broke al-day for love, in ech degree. 

A man moot nedes love, maugree his heed. 

He may nat fleen it, thogh he sholde be deed, 1170 

Al be she mayde, or wydwe, or elles wyf. 

And eek it is nat likly, al thy lyf. 

To stonden in hir grace ; namore shal I ; 

For wel thou wost thyselven, verraily. 

That thou and I be dampned to prisoun 1175 

Perpetuelly ; us gayneth no raunsoun. 

We stryve as dide the houndes for the boon ; 



38 CHAUCER 

They foughte al day, and yet hir part was noon; 

Ther cam a kyte, whyl they were so wrothe, 

And bar awey the boon bitwixe hem bothe. 1180 

And therfore at the kinges court, my brother, 

Ech man for himself, ther is noon other. 

Love if thee list, for I love and ay shal; 

And soothly, leve brother, this is al. 

Here in this prisoun mote we endure, 1185 

And everich of us take his aventure." 

Greet was the stryf and long bitwixe hem tweye. 
If that I hadde leyser for to seye ; 
But to theffect. It happed on a day 

(To telle it yow as shortly as I may), ngo 

A worthy duk that highte Perotheus, 
That felawe was unto duk Theseus 
Sin thilke day that they were children lite, 
Was come to Athenes, his felawe to visite. 
And for to pleye, as he was wont to do, 1195 

For in this world he loved no man so. 
And he loved him as tendrely agayn. 
So wel they loved, as olde bokes sayn, 
That whan that oon was deed, soothly to telle, 
His felawe wente and soughte him doun in helle; 1200 

But of that story list me nat to write. 

Duk Perotheus loved wel Arcite, 
And hadde him knowe at Thebes yeer by yere; 
And finally, at requeste and preyere 

Of Perotheus, withouten any raunsoun, 1205 

Duk Theseus him leet out of prisoun, 
Frely to goon wher that him liste over-al. 
In swich a gyse, as I you tellen shal. 
This was the forward, pleynly for tendite, 
Bitwixen Theseus and him Arcite, 1210 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 39 

That if so were that Arcite were yfounde 
Evere in his lyf, by day or night o stounde 
In any contree of this Theseus, 
And he were caught, it was acorded thus, 
That with a swerd he sholde lese his heed ; 1215 

Ther nas noon other remedye ne reed. 
But taketh his leve, and homward he him spedde : 
Lat him be war, his nekke Hth to wedde ! 
How greet a sorwe suffreth now Arcite ! 
The deeth he feleth thurgh his herte smyte ; 1220 

He wepeth, wayleth, cryeth pitously ; 
To sleen himself he wayteth prively. 
He seyde, **Allas that day that I was born ! 
Now is my prisoun worse than bif orn ; , 
Now is me shape eternally to dwelle 1225 

Noght in purgatorie, but in helle. 
Alias, that ever knew I Perotheus ! 
For elles hadde I dwelled with Theseus 
Yf etered in his prisoun evermo ; 

Than hadde I been in blisse, and nat in wo. 1230 

Only the sighte of hir whom that I serve. 
Though that I never hir grace may deserve, 
Wolde han suffised right ynough for me. 
O dere cosyn Palamon," quod he, 

"Thyn is the victorie of this aventure, 1235 

Ful blisfully in prison maistow dure. 
In prison ? certes nay, but in paradys ! 
Wei hath Fortune yturned thee the dys. 
That hast the sight of hir, and I thabsence. 
For possible is, syn thou hast hir presence, 1240 

And art a knyght, a worthy and an able. 
That, by som cas, syn Fortune is chaungeable, 
Thou maist to thy desyr somtyme atteyne. 



40 CHAUCER 

But I, that am exiled, and bareyne 

Of alle grace, and in so greet despeir, 1245 

That ther nis erthe, water, fyr, ne eir, 

Ne creature, that of hem maked is, 

That may me helpe or doon confort in this, 

Wei oughte I sterve in wanhope and distresse ; 

Farwel my lyf, my lust, and my gladnesse ! 1250 

"Alias, why pleynen folk so in commune 
Of purveiaunce of God, or of Fortune, 
That yeveth hem ful ofte in many a gyse 
Wei bettre than they can hemself devyse! 
Som man desyreth for to han richesse, 1255 

That cause is of his mordre or greet siknesse ; 
And som man wolde out of his prison fayn, 
That in his hous is of his meynee slayn. 
Infinite harmes been in this mat'ere ; 

We witen nat what thing we prayen here. 1260 

We faren as he that dronke is as a mous; 
A dronke man wot wel he hath an hous, 
But he noot which the righte wey is thider, 
And to a dronke man the wey is slider; 
And certes in this world so faren we — 1265 

We seken faste after felicitee. 
But we goon wrong ful often, trewely. 
Thus may we seyen alle, and namely I, 
That wende and hadde a greet opinioun 
That, if I mighte escapen from prisoun, 1270 

Than hadde I been in joye and perfit hele, 
Ther now I am exyled fro my wele. 
Syn that I may nat seen yow, Emelye, 
I nam but deed ; ther nis no remedye/' 

Upon that other syde Palamon, 1275 

Whan that he wiste Arcite was agon, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 



41 



Swich sorwe he maketh that the grete tour 

Resouneth of his youUng and clamour. 

The pure fettres on his shines grete 

Weren of his bittre salte teres wete. 1280 

** Alias!" quod he, **Arcita, cosyn myn, 

Of al our stryf, God woot, the fruyt is thyn. 

Thow walkest now in Thebes at thy large, 

And of my wo thou yevest litel charge. 

Thou mayst, syn thou hast wisdom and manhede, 1285 

Assemblen alle the folk of our kynrede, 

And make a werre so sharpe on this citee, 

That by som aventure, or som tretee. 

Thou mayst have hir to lady and to wyf, 

For whom that I most nedes lese my lyf. 1290 

For, as by wey of possibilitee, 

Sith thou art at thy large, of prisoun free. 

And art a lord, greet is thyn avauntage. 

More than is myn, that sterve here in a cage. 

For I mot wepe and wayle whyl I live, 1295 

With al the wo that prison may me yive, 

And eek with peyne that love me yiveth also. 

That doubleth al my torment and my wo." 

Therwith the fyr of jalousye up-sterte 

Withinne his brest, and hente him by the herte 1300 

So woodly, that he lyk was to biholde 

The box-tree, or the asshen dede and colde. 

Than seyde he, " O cruel goddes, that governe 

This world with binding of your word eterne. 

And wryten in the table of athamaunt 1305 

Your parlement, and your eterne graunt, 

What is mankinde more unto yow holde 

Than is the sheep that rouketh in the f olde ? 

For slayn is man right as another beest, 



42 CHAUCER 

And dwelleth eek in prison and arreest, 1310 

And hath siknesse and greet adversitee, 
And ofte tymes giltelees, pardee ! 

" What governaunce is in this prescience, 
That giltelees tormenteth innocence ? 

And yet encreseth this al my penaunce, 1315 

That man is bounden to his observaunce, 
For Goddes sake, to letten of his wille, 
Ther as a beest may al his lust fulfille. 
And whan a beest is deed he hath no peyne ; 
But man after his deeth moot wepe and pleyne, 1320 

Though in this world he have care and wo ; 
Withouten doute it may stonden so. 
The answere of this I lete to divynis, 
But wel I woot that in this world gret pyne is. 
Alias, I se a serpent or a theef, 1325 

That many a trewe man hath doon mescheef, 
Goon at his large, and wher him list may turne ! 
But I moot been in prisoun thurgh Saturne, 
And eek thurgh Juno, jalous and eek wood, 
That hath destroyed wel ny al the blood 1330 

Of Thebes, with his waste walles wyde. 
And Venus sleeth me on that other syde 
For jalousye, and fere of him Arcite." 

Now wol I stinte of Palamon a lite, 
And lete him in his prisoun stille dwelle, 1335 

And of Arcita forth I wol yow telle. 
The somer passeth, and the nightes longe 
Encresen double wyse the peynes stronge 
Bothe of the lovere and the prisoner. 

I noot which hath the wofuller mester. 1340 

For shortly for to seyn, this Palamoun 
Perpetuelly is dampned to prisoun, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 43 

In cheynes and in fettres to been deed ; 

And Arcite is exyled upon his heed 

For evermo as out of that contree, 1345 

Ne nevermo he shal his lady see. 

Yow loveres axe I now this questioun, 
Who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamoun ? 
That oon may seen his lady day by day, 
But in prisoun he moot dwelle alway. 1350 

That other wher him list may ride or go, 
But seen his lady shal he nevermo. 
Now demeth as yow liste, ye that can, 
For I wol telle forth as I bigan. 

Explicit prima Pars, Sequitur pars secunda* 

Part II 

Whan that Arcite to Thebes comen was, 1355 

Ful ofte a day he swelte and seyde " Alias ! *' 
For seen his lady shal he nevermo. 
And shortly to concluden al his wo. 
So muche sorwe hadde never creature 
That is, or shal, whyl that the world may dure. 1360 

His sleep, his mete, his drinke is him biraft. 
That lene he wex and drye as is a shaft ; 
His eyen holwe, and grisly to biholde ; 
His hewe falwe, and pale as asshen colde. 
And solitarie he was, and ever allone, 1365 

And wailling al the night, making his mone. 
And if he herde song or instrument. 
Than wolde he wepe, he mighte nat be stent ; 
So feble eek were his spirits, and so lowe. 
And chaunged so, that no man coude knowe 1370 

His speche nor his voys, though men it herde. 



44 CHAUCER 

And in his gere for al the world he ferde 

Nat only lyk the loveres maladye 

Of Hereos, but rather lyk manye 

Engendred of humour malencolik, 1375 

Biforen, in his celle fantastik. 

And shortly, turned was al up-so-doun 

Bothe habit and eek disposicioun 

Of him, this woful lovere, daun Arcite. 

What sholde I alday of his wo endite ? 1380 

Whan he endured hadde a yeer or two 
This cruel torment and this peyne and wo, 
At Thebes, in his contree, as I seyde, 
Upon a night, in sleep as he him leyde, 
Him thoughte how that the winged god Mercuric 1385 

Biforn him stood and bad him to be murie. 
His slepy yerde in bond he bar uprighte ; 
An hat he werede upon his heres brighte. 
Arrayed was this god, as he took keep. 
As he was whan that Argus took his sleep ; 1390 

And seyde him thus, '' To Athenes shaltow wende. 
Ther is thee shapen of thy wo an ende." 
And with that word Arcite wook and sterte. 
" Now trewely, how sore that me smerte,'* 
Quod he, " to Athenes right now wol I fare. 1395 

Ne for the drede of deeth shal I nat spare 
To see my lady, that I love and serve. 
In hir presence I recche nat to sterve/' 
And with that word he caughte a greet mirour, 
And saugh that chaunged was al his colour, 1400 

And saugh his visage al in another kinde; 
And right anon it ran him in his minde, 
That, sith his face was so disfigured 
Of maladye the which he hadde endured. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 45 

He mighte wel, if that he bar him lowe, 1405 

Live in Athenes evermore unknowe, 

And seen his lady wel ny day by day ; 

And right anon he chaungede his array, 

And cladde him as a poure laborer, 

And al allone, save oonly a squyer, 1410 

That knew his privetee and al his cas. 

Which was disgised povrely, as he was, 

To Athenes is he goon the nexte way, 

And to the court he wente upon a day, 

And at the gate he profreth his servyse, 1415 

To drugge and drawe, what so men wol devyse ; 

And shortly of this matere for to seyn, 

He fil in office with a chamberleyn, 

The which that dwelling was with Emelye, 

For he was wys, and coude soone espye 1420 

Of every servaunt which that serveth here. 

Wel coude he hewen wode, and water here. 

For he was yong and mighty for the nones. 

And therto he was long and big of bones 

To doon that any wight can him devyse. 1425 

A yeer or two he was in this servyse, 

Page of the chambre of Emelye the brighte ; 

And Philostrate he seyde that he highte. 

But half so wel biloved a man as he 

Ne was ther never in court of his degree ; 1430 

He was so gentil of condicioun, 

That thurghout al the court was his renoun. 

They seyden that it were a charitee 

That Theseus wolde enhauncen his degree. 

And putten him in worshipful servyse, 1435 

Ther as he mighte his vertu exercyse. 

And thus, withinne a whyle, his name is spronge, 



46 CHAUCER 

Bothe of his dedes and his goode tonge, 

That Theseus hath taken him so neer 

That of his chambre he made him a squyer, 1440 

And yaf him gold to mayntene his degree ; 

And eek men broghte him out of his contree 

From yeer to yeer f ul prively his rente ; 

But honestly and slyly he it spente, 

That no man wondred how that he it hadde. 1445 

And thre yeer in this wyse his lyf he ladde, 

And bar him so in pees and eek in werre, 

Ther was no man that Theseus hath derre. 

And in this blisse lete I now Arcite, 

And speke I wol of Palamon a lite. 1450 

In derknesse and horrible and strong prisoun 
This seven yeer hath seten Palamoun, 
Forpyned, what for wo and for distresse. 
Who feeleth double soor and hevynesse 
But Palamon ? that love destreyneth so, 1455 

That wood out of his wit he goth for wo ; 
And eek therto he is a prisoner 
Perpetuelly, noght only for a yeer. 
Who coude ryme in Englissh proprely 
His martirdom ? — for sothe, it am nat I. 1460 

Therfore I passe as lightly as I may. 

It fel that in the seventhe yeer, in May, 
The thridde night, as olde bookes seyn. 
That al this storie tellen more pleyn. 

Were it by aventure or destinee, 1465 

As, whan a thing is shapen, it shal be, 
That, sone after the midnight, Palamoun, 
By helping of a freend, brak his prisoun. 
And fleeth the citee, faste as he may go. 
For he had yive his gayler drinke so 1470 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 47 

Of a clarree, maad of a certeyn wyn, 

With nercotikes and opie of Thebes fyn, 

That al that night, thogh that men wolde him shake, 

The gayler sleep, he mighte nat awake ; 

And thus he fleeth as faste as ever he may. 1475 

The night was short, and faste by the day. 

That nedes-cost he moste himselven hyde, 

And til a grove, faste ther bisyde, 

With dredful foot than stalketh Palamoun, 

For, shortly, this was his opinioun, 1480 

That in that grove he wolde him hyde al day, 

And in the night than wolde he take his way 

To Thebesward, his frendes for to preye 

On Theseus to helpe him to werreye ; 

And, shortly, outher he wolde lese his lyf, 1485 

Or winnen Emelye unto his wyf ; 

This is theffect and his entente pleyn. 

Now wol I turne unto Arcite ageyn. 
That litel wiste how ny that was his care. 
Til that Fortune had broght him in the snare. 1490 

The bisy larke, messager of day, 
Salueth in hir song the morwe gray ; 
And firy Phebus riseth up so brighte 
That al the orient laugheth of the lighte. 
And with his stremes dryeth in the greves 1495 

The silver dropes hanging on the leves. 
And Arcite, that is in the court roial 
With Theseus, his squyer principal, 
Is risen, and loketh on the myrie day ; 
And, for to doon his observaunce to May, 1500 

Remembring on the poynt of his desyr, 
He on a courser, sterting as the fyr. 
Is riden into the feeldes, him to pleye. 



48 CHAUCER 

Out of the court, were it a myle or tweye ; 

And to the grove, of which that I yow tolde, 1505 

By aventure his wey he gan to holde, 

To maken him a gerland of the greves. 

Were it of wodebinde or hawethorn leves, 

And loude he song ageyn the sonne shene, 

"May, with alle thy floures and thy grene, 1510 

Welcome be thou, faire fresshe May, 

I hope that I som grene gete may." 

And from his courser with a lusty herte 

Into the grove f ul hastily he sterte. 

And in a path he rometh up and doun, 1515 

Ther as by aventure this Palamoun 

Was in a bussh that no man mighte him see, 

For sore afered of his deeth was he. 

Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite ; 

God wot he wolde have trowed it ful lite, 1520 

But sooth is seyd, gon sithen many yeres. 

That ** f eeld hath eyen, and the wode hath eres." 

It is ful fair a man to here him evene, 

For " alday meeteth men at unset stevene.*' 

Ful litel wot Arcite of his felawe, 1525 

That was so ny to herknen al his sawe, 

For in the bussh he sitteth now ful stille. 

Whan that Arcite hadde romed al his fiUe, 
And songen al the roundel lustily. 

Into a studie he fil al sodeynly, 1530 

As doon thise loveres in hir queynte geres. 
Now in the croppe, now doun in the breres, 
Now up, now doun, as boket in a welle. 
Right as the Friday, sothly for to telle, 
Now it shyneth, now it reyneth faste, 1535 

Right so can gery Venus overcaste 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 



49 



The hertes of hir folk ; right as hir day- 
Is gerful, right so chaungeth she array. 
" Selde is the Friday al the wyke ylike.'* 
Whan that Arcite had songe, he gan to sike, 1540 

And sette him doun withouten any more : 
" Alias ! " quod he, " that day that I was bore ! 
How longe, Juno, thurgh thy crueltee, 
Woltow werreyen Thebes the citee ? 

Alias, ybrought is to confusioun 1545 

The blood roial of Cadme and Amphioun ! — 
Of Cadmus, which that was the firste man 
That Thebes bulte, or first the toun bigan, 
And of the citee first was crouned king. 
Of his lynage am I, and his ofspring 1550 

By verray ligne, as of the stok roial, 
And now I am so caitif and so thrall, 
That he that is my mortal enemy, 
I serve him as his squyer pourely. 

And yet doth Juno me wel more shame, 1555 

For I dar noght biknowe myn owne name, 
But ther as I was wont to highte Arcite, 
Now highte I Philostrate, noght worth a myte. 
Alias, thou felle Mars ! alias, Juno ! 

Thus hath your ire our kinrede al for-do, 1560 

Save only me, and wrecched Palamoun, 
That Theseus martireth in prisoun. 
And over al this, to sleen me utterly. 
Love hath his fyry dart so brenningly 
Ystiked thurgh my trewe careful herte, ^ 1565 

That shapen was my deeth erst than my sherte. 
Ye sleen me with your eyen, Emelye ! 
Ye been the cause wherfor that I dye ! 
Of al the remenant of myn other care 



50 CHAUCER 

Ne sette I nat the mountaunce of a tare, 1570 

So that I coude doon aught to your plesaunce.'* 
And with that word he fil doun in a traunce 
A longe tyme, and afterward he upsterte. 

This Palamoun, that thoughte that thurgh his herte 
He felte a cold swerd sodeynliche glyde, 1575 

For ire he quook, no lenger wolde he byde. 
And whan that he had herd Arcites tale, 
As he were wood, with face deed and pale, 
He sterte him up out of the buskes thikke, 
And seyde, ** Arcite, false traitour wikke, 1580 

Now artow hent, that lovest my lady so. 
For whom that I have al this peyne and wo, 
And art my blood, and to my counseil sworn, 
As I ful ofte have told thee heer-biforn, 
And hast byjaped heer duk Theseus, 1585 

And falsly chaunged hast thy name thus. 
I wol be deed, or elles thou shalt dye. 
Thou shalt nat love my lady Emelye, 
But I wol love hir only and namo ; 

For I am Palamoun, thy mortal fo. 1590 

And though that I no wepne have in this place, 
But out of prison am astert by grace, 
I drede noght that outher thou shalt dye, 
Or thou ne shalt nat loven Emelye. 
Ghees which thou wolt, for thou shalt nat asterte.** 1595 

This Arcite, with ful despitous herte. 
Whan he him knew, and hadde his tale herd. 
As fiers as leoun pulled out a swerd, 
And seyde thus, ** By God that sit above, 
Nere it that thou art sik and wood for love, 1600 

And eek that thou no wepne hast in this place, 
Thou sholdest nevere out of this grove pace, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 51 

That thou ne sholdest dyen of myn hond, 

For I defye the seurtee and the bond 

Which that thou seist that I have maad to thee. 1605 

What, verray fool, think wel that love is free, 

And I wol love hir, maugre al thy might ! 

But, for as muche thou art a worthy knyght. 

And wilnest to darreyne hir by bataille, 

Have heer my trouthe, tomorwe I wol nat faile, 1610 

Withouten witing of any other wight, 

That heer I wol be founden as a knight, 

And bringen barneys right ynough for thee. 

And chees the beste, and leve the worste for me ; 

And mete and drinke this night wol I bringe 1615 

Ynough for thee, and clothes for thy beddinge. 

And, if so be that thou my lady winne. 

And sle me in this wode ther I am inne. 

Thou mayst wel have thy lady, as for me.'* 

This Palamon answerde : '* I graunte it thee.*' 1620 

And thus they been departed til amorwe, 

When ech of hem had leyd his feith to borwe. 

O Cupide, out of alle charitee ! 
O regne, that wolt no f elawe have with thee ! 
Ful sooth is seyd, that ** love ne lordshipe 1625 

Wol noght, his thankes, have no felaweshipe.'* 
Wel finden that Arcite and Palamoun. 

Arcite is riden anon unto the toun. 
And on the morwe, er it were dayes light, 
Ful prively two barneys hath he dight, 1630 

Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne 
The bataille in the feeld bitwix hem tweyne. 
And on his hors, allone as he was born. 
He carieth al the barneys him biforn ; 
And in the grove, at tyme and place y-set, 1635 



52 CHAUCER 

This Arcite and this Palamon ben met. 

To chaungea gan the colour in hir face ; 

Right as the hunters in the regne of Trace, 

That stondeth at the gappe with a spere, 

Whan hunted is the leoun or the here, 1640 

And hereth him come russhing in the greves, 

And breketh bothe bowes and the leves, 

And thinketh, " Heer cometh my mortel enemy, 

Withoute faile, he moot be deed, or I ; 

For outher I moot sleen him at the gappe, 1645 

Or he moot sleen me, if that me mishappe,'* 

So ferden they, in chaunging of hir hewe. 

As fer as everich of hem other knewe. 

Ther nas no *'good day," ne no saluing ; 

But streight withouten word or rehersing, 1650 

Everich of hem heelp for to armen other. 

As frendly as he were his owene brother ; 

And, after that, with sharpe speres stronge 

They foynen ech at other wonder longe. 

Thou mightest wene that this Palamoun 1655 

In his fighting were as a wood leoun. 

And as a cruel tigre was Arcite ; 

As wilde bores gonne they to smyte. 

That frothen whyte as f 00m for ire wood ; 

Up to the ancle foghte they in hir blood. 1660 

And in this wyse I lete hem fighting dwelle ; 

And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle. 

The Destinee, ministre general, 
That executeth in the world over-al 

The purveiaunce, that God hath seyn biforn, 1665 

So strong it is that, though the world had sworn 
The contrarie of a thing by ye or nay. 
Yet " somtyme it shall fallen on a day 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 



53 



That falleth nat eft withinne a thousand yere.'* 

For certeynly our appetites here, 1670 

Be it of werre, or pees, or hate, or love, 

Al is this reuled by the sighte above. 

This mene I now by mighty Theseus, 

That for to hunten is so desirous. 

And namely at the grete hert in May, 1675 

That in his bed ther daweth him no day, 

That he nis clad, and redy for to ryde 

With hunte and horn, and houndes him bisyde. 

For in his hunting hath he swich delit. 

That it is al his joye and appetit 1680 

To been himself the grete hertes bane ; 

For after Mars he serveth now Diane. 

Cleer was the day, as I have told er this, 
And Theseus, with alle joye and blis. 

With his Ypolita, the faire queue, 1685 

And Emelye, clothed al in grene, 
On hunting be they riden roially. 
And to the grove, that stood ful faste by. 
In which ther was an hert, as men him tolde, 
Duk Theseus the streighte wey hath holde. 1690 

And to the launde he rideth him ful right, 
For thider was the hert wont have his flight, 
And over a brook, and so forth in his weye. 
This duk wol han a cours at him or tweye, 
With houndes, swiche as that him list comaunde. 1695 

And whan this duk was come unto the launde, 
Under the sonne he loketh, and anon 
He was war of Arcite and Palamon, 
That f oughten breme, as it were bores two ; 
The brighte swerdes wenten to and fro 1700 

So hidously, that with the leeste strook 



54 CHAUCER 

It semed as it wolde felle an ook ; 

But what they were, nothing he ne woot. 

This duk his courser with his spores smoot, 

And at a stert he was betwix hem two, 1705 

And pulled out a swerd and cride, " Ho, 

Namore, up peyne of lesing of your heed ! 

By mighty Mars, he shal anon be deed. 

That smyteth any strook, that I may seen ! 

But telleth me what myster men ye been, 1710 

That been so hardy for to fighten here 

Withouten juge or other officere, 

As it were in a listes roially ? " 

This Palamon answerde hastily 
And seyde, ** Sire, what nedeth wordes mo ^ 1715 

We have the deeth deserved bothe two. 
Two woful wrecches been we, two caytyves, 
That been encombred of oure owene lyves ; 
And as thou art a rightful lord and juge 
Ne yeve us neither mercy ne refuge, 1720 

But sle me first, for seynte charitee, 
But sle my f elawe eek as wel as me ; 
Or sle him first ; for, though thou knowe it lite, 
This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, 

That fro thy lond is banisshed on his heed, 1725 

For which he hath deserved to be deed. 
For this is he that cam unto thy gate. 
And seyde that he highte Philostrate. 
Thus hath he japed thee ful many a yeer, 
And thou hast maked him thy chief squyer ; 1730 

And this is he that loveth Emelye. 
For sith the day is come that I shal dye, 
I make pleynly my confessioun. 
That I am thilke woful Palamoun, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 55 

That hath thy prisoun broken wikkedly. 1735 

I am thy mortal foo, and it am I 

That loveth so hote Emelye the brighte, 

That I wol dye present in hir sighte. 

Therefore I axe deeth and my juwyse; 

But sle my felawe in the same wyse, 1740 

For bothe han we deserved to be slayn/' 

This worthy duk answerde anon agayn, 
And seide, '* This is a short conclusioun : 
Youre owne mouth, by your confessioun, 
Hath dampned you, and I wol it recorde, 1745 

It nedeth noght to pyne yow with the corde. 
Ye shul be deed, by mighty Mars the rede ! '' 

The quene anon, for verray wommanhede, 
Gan for to wepe, and so did Emelye, 

And alle the ladies in the companye, 1750 

Gret pitee was it, as it thoughte hem alle, 
That ever swich a chaunce sholde falle ; 
For gentil men they were, of greet estat, 
And nothing but for love was this debat ; 
And sawe hir blody woundes, wyde and sore; 1755 

And alle cryden, bothe lasse and more, 
*' Have mercy, lord, upon us wommen alle ! *' 
And on hir bare knees adoun they falle, 
And wolde have kist his feet ther as he stood, 
Til at the laste aslaked was his mood, 1760 

For pitee renneth soone in gentil herte; 
And though he firste for ire quook and sterte, 
He hath considered shortly, in a clause. 
The trespas of hem bothe, and eek the cause ; 
And although that his ire hir gilt accused, 1765 

Yet in his resoun he hem bothe excused ; 
And thus he thoghte wel, that every man 



56 CHAUCER 

Wol helpe himself in love, if that he can, 

And eek delivere himself out of prisoun; 

And eek his herte had compassioun 1770 

Of wommen, for they wepen ever in oon ; 

And in his gentil herte he thoghte anoon, 

And softe unto himself he seyde, *' Fy 

Upon a lord that wol have no mercy, 

But been a leoun, bothe in word and dede, 1775 

To hem that been in repentaunce and drede, 

As wel as to a proud despitous man, 

That wol maynteyne that he first bigan ! 

That lord hath litel of discrecioun, 

That in swich cas can no divisioun, 1780 

But weyeth pride and humblesse after oon." 

And shortly, whan his ire is thus agoon. 

He gan to loken up with eyen lighte. 

And spak thise same wordes al on highte : 

**The god of love, a, benedicite^ 1785 

How mighty and how greet a lord is he ! 

Ageyns his might ther gayneth none obstacles, 

He may be cleped a god for his miracles ; 

For he can maken at his owne gyse 

Of everich herte as that him list devyse. 1790 

Lo heer, this Arcite and this Palamoun, 

That quitly weren out of my prisoun. 

And mighte han lived in Thebes roially. 

And witen I am hir mortal enemy. 

And that hir deth lyth in my might also, 1795 

And yet hath love, maugree hir eyen two, 

Ybroght hem hyder, bothe for to dye ! 

Now loketh, is nat that an heigh f olye ? 

Who may been a fool, but if he love ? 

Bihold, for Goddes sake that sit above, 1800 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 57 

Se how they blede ! be they noght wel arrayed ? 

Thus hath hir lord, the god of love, ypayed 

Hir wages and hir fees for hir servyse ! 

And yet they wenen for to been ful wyse 

That serven love, for aught that may bif alle ! 1805 

But this is yet the beste game of alle, 

That she, for whom they han this jolitee. 

Can hem therfor as muche thank as me ; 

She woot namore of al this bote fare, 

By God, than woot a cokkow or an hare ! 1810 

But al moot been assayed, hoot and cold ; 

A man moot been a fool, or yong or old ; 

I woot it by myself ful yore agoon. 

For in my tyme a servant was I oon. 

And therfore, sin I knowe of loves peyne, 1815 

And woot how sore it can a man distreyne, 

As he that hath ben caught ofte in his las, 

Tyow foryeve al hoolly this trespas, 

At requeste of the quene that kneleth here, 

And eek of Emelye, my suster dere ; 1820 

And ye shul bothe anon unto me swere, 

That nevermo ye shul my contree dere, 

Ne make werre upon me night ne day, 

But been my freendes in al that ye may. 

I yow foryeve this trespas every deel/' 1825 

And they him swore his axing fayre and weel. 

And him of lordshipe and of mercy preyde. 

And he hem graunteth grace, and thus he seyde, 

** To speke of roial lynage and richesse, 

Though that she were a quene or a princesse, 1830 

Ech of yow bothe is worthy, doutelees, 

To wedden whan tyme is, but nathelees, 

(I speke as for my suster Emelye, 



S8 CHAUCER 

For whom ye have this stryf and jelousye) 

Ye woot yourself she may not wedden two 1835 

At ones, though ye fighten evermo ; 

That oon of yow, al be him looth or leef, 

He moot go pypen in an ivy leef ; 

This is to seyn, she may nat have bothe, 

Al be ye never so jalous, ne so wrothe, 1840 

And for-thy, I yow putte in this degree, 

That ech of yow shal have his destinee 

As him is shape, and herkneth in what wyse ; 

Lo, heer your ende of that I shal devyse. 

My wil is this, for plat conclusioun, 1845 

Withouten any replicacioun, 

If that yow lyketh, tak it for the beste. 

That everich of yow shal goon wher him leste 

Frely, withouten raunson or daunger. 

And this day fifty wykes, fer ne ner, 1850 

Everich of yow shal bringe an hundred knightes. 

Armed for listes up at alle rightes, 

Al redy to darreyne hir by bataille. 

And this bihote I yow withouten faille 

Upon my trouthe and as I am a knight, 1855 

That whether of yow bothe that hath might, 

This is to seyn, that whether he or thou 

May with his hundred, as I spak of now, 

Sleen his contrarie, or out of listes dryve, 

Than shal I yeve Emelya to wyve i860 

To whom that fortune yeveth so fair a grace. 

The listes shal I maken in this place. 

And God so wisly on my soule rewe. 

As I shal even juge been and trewe. 

Ye shul non other ende with me maken, 1865 

That oon of yow ne shal be deed or taken. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 59 

And if yow thinketh this is wel ysayd, 
Seyth your avys, and holdeth yow apayd. 
This is your ende and your conclusioun." 

Who loketh lightly now but Palamoun ? 1870 

Who springeth up for joye but Arcite ? 
Who couthe telle, or who couthe endite, 
The joye that is maked in the place 
Whan Theseus hath doon so fair a grace ? 
But doun on knees wente every maner wight, 1875 

And thanked him with al hir herte and might, 
And namely the Thebans ofte sythe. 
And thus with good hope and with herte blythe 
They take hir leve, and homward gonne they ryde 
To Thebes, with his olde walles wyde. 1880 

Explicit secunda pars. Sequitur pars tercia. 

Part III 

I trowe men wolde deme it necligence, 
If I foryete to tellen the dispence 
Of Theseus, that goth so bisily 
To maken up the listes roially ; 

That swich a noble theatre as it was, 1885 

I dar wel seyn that in this world ther nas. 
The circuit a myle was aboute, 
Walled of stoon, and diched al withoute. 
Round was the shap, in maner of compas, 
Ful of degrees, the heighte of sixty pas, 1890 

That, whan a man was set on o degree. 
He lette nat his felawe for to see. 
Estward ther stood a gate of marbel whit, 
Westward right swich another in the opposit ; 
And shortly to concluden, swich a place 1895 



6o CHAUCER 

Was noon in erthe, as in so litel space, 

For in the lond ther nas no crafty man, 

That geometric or ars-metrik can, 

Ne purtreyour, ne kerver of ymages. 

That Theseus ne yaf him mete and wages 1900 

The theatre for to maken and devyse. 

And for to doon his ryte and sacrifyse, 

He estward hath upon the gate above, 

In worship of Venus, goddesse of love, 

Doon make an auter and an oratorie ; 1905 

And westward, in the mynde and in memorie 

Of Mars, he maked hath right swich another, 

That coste largely of gold a f other ; 

And northward, in a touret on the wal, 

Of alabastre whyt and reed coral 1910 

An oratorie riche for to see, 

In worship of Diane of chastitee, 

Hath Theseus don wroght in noble wyse. 

But yet hadde I foryeten to devyse 

The noble kerving, and the portreitures, 1915 

The shap, the contenaunce, and the figures. 

That weren in thise oratories thre. 

First in the temple of Venus maystow se 
Wroght on the wal, ful pitous to biholde, 
The broken slepes, and the sykes colde ; 1920 

The sacred teeres, and the waymentinge ; 
The fyry strokes of the desiringe. 
That loves servaunts in this lyf enduren ; 
The othes, that hir covenants assuren ; 
Plesaunce and Hope, Desyr, Foolhardinesse, 1925 

Beautee and Youthe, Bauderie, Richesse, 
Charmes and Force, Lesinges, Flaterye, 
Dispense, Bisinesse, and Jalousye, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 6i 

That wered of yelwe goldes a gerland, 

And a cokkow sitting on hir hand ; 1930 

Festes, instruments, caroles, daunces, 

Lust and array, and alle the circumstaunces 

Of love, whiche that I rekne and rekne shal. 

By ordre weren peynted on the wal, 

And mo than I can make of mencioun. 1935 

For soothly, al the mount of Citheroun, 

Ther Venus hath hir principal dwellinge, • 

Was shewed on the wal in portreyinge. 

With al the gardin, and the lustinesse. 

Nat was foryeten the porter Ydelnesse, 1940 

Ne Narcisus the faire of yore agon, 

Ne yet the folye of king Salamon, 

Ne yet the grete strengthe of Hercules, 

Thenchauntements of Medea and Circes, 

Ne of Turnus, with the hardy fiers corage, 1945 

The riche Cresus, caytif in servage. 

Thus may ye seen that Wisdome ne Richesse, 

Beautee ne Sleighte, Strengthe ne Hardinesse, 

Ne may with Venus holde champartye; 

For as hir list the world than may she gye. 1950 

Lo, alle thise folk so caught were in hir las, 

Til they for wo ful ofte seyde *' Alias ! " 

Suffiseth heer ensamples oon or two, 

And though I coude rekne a thousand mo. 

The statue of Venus, glorious for to se, 1955 

Was naked, fleting in thef large see. 
And fro the navel doun al covered was 
With wawes grene, and brighte as any glas ; 
A citole in hir right hand hadde she. 

And on hir heed, ful semely for to se, i960 

A rose gerland, f ressh and wel smeUinge ; 



62 CHAUCER 

Above hir heed hir dowves flikeringe; 

Biforn hir stood hir sone Cupido, 

Upon his shuldres winges hadde he two, 

And blind he was, as it is ofte sene ; 1965 

A bowe he bar and arwes brighte and kene. 

Why sholde I noght as wel eek telle yow al 
The portreiture, that was upon the wal 
Within the temple of mighty Mars the rede ? 
Al peynted was the wal in lengthe and brede, 1970 

Lyk to the estres of the grisly place, 
That highte the grete temple of Mars in Trace, 
In thilke colde frosty regioun, 
Ther as Mars hath his sovereyn mansioun. 

First on the wal was peynted ^ forest, 1975 

In which ther dwelleth neither man ne best, 
With knotty, knarry, bareyn trees olde 
Of stubbes sharpe and hidous to biholde, 
In-which ther ran a rumbel and a swough, 
As though a storm sholde bresten every bough ; 1980 

And downward from an hille, under a bente, 
Ther stood the temple of Mars armipotente, 
Wroght al of burned steel, of which thentree 
Was long and streit, and gastly for to see ; 
And ther-out cam a rage and such a veze, 1985 

That it made al the gates for to rese. 
The northren light in at the dores shoon, 
For windowe on the wal ne was ther noon, 
Thurgh which men mighten an^ light discerne. 
The dores were alle of adamant eterne, 1990 

Yclenched overthwart and endelong 
With iren tough, and, for to make it strong, 
Every piler, the temple to sustene. 
Was tonne-greet, of iren bright and shene. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 63 

Ther saugh I first the derke ymagining 1995 

Of felonye, and al the compassing ; 
The cruel ire, reed as any glede ; 
The pykepurs, and eek the pale dred ; 
The smyler with the knyf under the cloke ; 
The shepene brenning with the blake smoke ; 2000 

The tresoun of the mordring in the bedde ; 
The open werre, with woundes al bi-bledde ; 
Contek, with blody knyf and sharp manace. 
Al ful of chirking was that sory place. 
The sleere of himself yet saugh I ther, 2005 

His herte-blood hath bathed al his heer ; 
The nayl ydriven in the shode a-night ; 
The colde deeth, with mouth gaping upright. 
Amiddes of the temple sat Meschaunce, 
With disconfort and sory contenaunce ; 2010 

Yet saugh I Woodnesse laughing in his rage, 
Armed compleynt, out-hees, and fiers outrage ; 
The careyne in the bussh, with throte ycorve ; 
A thousand slayn, and nat of qualm ystorve ; 
The tiraunt, with the prey by force yraft ; 2015 

The toun destroyed, ther was no thing laft. 
Yet saugh I brent the shippes hoppesteres ; 
The hunte strangled with the wilde beres ; 
The sowe freten the child right in the cradel ; 
The cook yscalded, for al his longe ladel ; 2020 

Noght was foryeten by the infortune of Marte. 
The carter over-riden with his carte. 
Under the wheel ful lowe he lay adoun. 
Ther were also, of Martes divisioun. 

The harbour, and the bocher, and the smith 2025 

That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his stith. 
And al above, depeynted in a tour. 



64 CHAUCER 

Saw I Conquest sittinge in greet honour, 

With the sharpe swerde over his heed 

Hanging by a sotil twynes threed ; 2030 

Depeynted was the slaughtre of Julius, 

Of grete Nero, and of Antonius ; 

Al be that thilke tyme they were unborn. 

Yet was hir deeth depeynted ther-biforn. 

By manasinge of Mars, right by figure ; 2035 

So was it shewed in that portreiture 

As is depeynted in the sterres above 

Who shal be slayn or elles deed for love. 

Suffiseth oon ensample in stories olde, 

I may not rekne hem alle thogh I wolde. 2040 

The statue of Mars upon a carte stood. 
Armed, and loked grim as he were wood ; 
And over his heed ther shynen two figures 
Of sterres, that been cleped in scriptures. 
That oon Puella, that other Rubeus. 2045 

This god of armes was arrayed thus — 
A wolf ther stood biforn him at his feet 
With eyen rede, and of a man he eet ; 
With sotil pencel was depeynt this storie, 
In redoutinge of Mars and of his glorie. 2050 

Now to the temple of Diane the chaste, 
As shortly as I can, I wol me haste, 
To telle yow al the descripcioun. 
Depeynted been the walles up and doun 
Of hunting and of shamfast chastitee. 2055 

Ther saugh I how woful Calistopee, 
Whan that Diane agreved was with here, 
Was turned from a womman to a bere. 
And after was she maad the lode-sterre ; 
Thus was it peynted, I can say no f erre, 2060 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 65 

Hir sone is eek a sterre, as men may see. 

Ther saiigh I Dane, yturned til a tree — 

I mene nat the goddesse Diane, 

But Penneus doughter, which that highte Dane. 

Ther saugh I Attheon an hert ymaked, 2065 

For vengeaunce that he saugh Diane al naked ; 

I saugh how that his houndes have him caught. 

And freten him, for that they knewe him naught. 

Yet peynted was a Htel forther-moor, 

How Atthalante hunted the wilde boor, 2070 

And Meleagre, and many another mo. 

For which Diane wroughte him care and wo. 

Ther saugh I many another wonder storie, 

The whiche me list nat drawen to memorie. 

This goddesse on an hert ful hye sect, 2075 

With smale houndes al aboute hir feet ; 
And undernethe her feet she hadde a mone, 
Wexing it was, and sholde wanie sone. 
In gaude grene hir statue clothed was. 
With bowe in honde and arwes in a cas. 2080 

Hir eyen caste she ful lowe adoun, 
Ther Pluto hath his derke regioun. 
A womman travailing was hir biforn, 
But, for hir child so longe was unborn, 
Ful pitously Lucina gan she calle, 2085 

And seyde, '* Help, for thou mayst best of alle.'' 
Wei coude he peynten lifly that it wroghte. 
With many a florin he the hewes boghte. 

Now been the listes maad, and Theseus, 
That at his grete cost arrayed thus 2090 

The temples and the theatre every del. 
Whan it was doon, him liked wonder wel. 
But stinte I wol of Theseus a lyte. 



66 CHAUCER 

And speke of Palamon and of Arcite. 

The day approcheth of hir retourninge, 2095 

That everich sholde an hundred knightes bringe, 
The bataille to darreyne, as I yow tolde ; 
And til Athenes, hir covenants for to holde, 
Hath everich of hem broght an hundred knightes 
Wei armed for the werre at alle rightes. 2100 

And sikerly, ther trowed many a man 
That nevere, sithen that the world bigan, 
As for to speke of knighthod of hir bond, 
As fer as God hath maked see or lond, 
Nas, of so fewe, so noble a compaignye ; 2105 

For every wight that lovede chivalrye, 
And wolde, his thankes, ban a passant name, 
Hath preyed that he mighte ben of that game ; 
And wel was him that therto chosen was. 
For if ther fille tomorwe swich a cas, 21 10 

Ye knowen wel, that every lusty knight. 
That loveth paramours, and hath his might, 
Were it in Engelond, or elleswhere. 
They wolde, hir thankes, wilnen to be there ; 
To fighte for a lady, benedicite ! 2115 

It were a lusty sighte for to see ; 
And right so ferden they with Palamon ; 
With him ther wenten knightes many oon. 
Som wol ben armed in an habergeoun, 
And in a brest-plat and a light gipoun ; 2120 

And somme woln have a peyre plates large ; 
And somme woln have a Pruce sheld or a targe ; 
Somme woln been armed on hir legges weel. 
And have an ax, and somme a mace of steel, — 
Ther nis no newe gyse, that it nas old. 2125 

Armed were they, as I have you told, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 67 

Everich after his opinioun. 

Ther maistow seen coming with Palamoun 
Lygurge himself, the grete king of Trace ; 
Blak was his herd, and manly was his face ; 2130 

The cercles of his eyen in his heed, 
They gloweden bitwixe yelow and reed ; 
And lyk a griffon loked he aboute. 
With kempe heeres on his browes stoute ; 
His limes grete, his brawnes harde and stronge, 2135 

His shuldres brode, his armes rounde and longe. 
And as the gyse was in his contree, 
Ful hye upon a char of gold stood he, 
With foure white boles in the trays. 

Instede of cote-armure over his harnays, 2140 

With nayles yelwe, and brighte as any gold, 
He hadde a beres skyn, col-blak, for-old. 
His longe heer was kembd bihinde his bak. 
As any ravenes fethere it shoon for-blak. 
A wrethe of gold arm-greet, of huge wighte, 2145 

Upon his heed, set ful of stones brighte, 
Of fyne rubies and of dyamaunts. 
Aboute his char ther wenten white alaunts, 
Twenty and mo, as grete as any steer. 
To hunten at the leoun or the deer, 2150 

And folwed him with mosel faste ybounde, 
Colered of golde, and torets fyled rounde. 
An hundred lordes hadde he in his route, 
Armed ful wel, with hertes sterne and stoute. 

With Arcita in stories as men finde, 2155 

The grete Emetreus, the king of Inde, 
Upon a stede bay trapped in steel. 
Covered in cloth of gold diapred wel. 
Cam riding lyk the god of armes. Mars. 



68- CHAUCER 

His cote-armure was of cloth of Tars, 2160 

Couched with perles white and rounde and grete ; 

His sadel was of brend gold, newe ybete; 

A mantelet upon his shuldre hanginge 

Bretf ul of rubies reede, as fyr sparklinge ; 

His crispe heer lyk ringes was yronne, 2165 

And that was yelow, and glitered as the sonne ; 

His nose was heigh, his eyen bright citryn, 

His lippes rounde, his colour was sangwyn, 

A fewe fraknes in his face yspreynd, 

Betwixen yelow and somdel blak ymeynd, 2170 

And as a leoun he his loking caste. 

Of fyve and twenty yeer his age I caste. 

His herd was wel bigonne for to springe ; 

His voys was as a trompe thunderinge ; 

Upon his heed he wered, of laurer grene, 2175 

A gerland fresh and lusty for to sene ; 

Upon his hand he bar, for his deduyt, 

An egle tame, as any lilye whyt. 

An hundred lordes hadde he with him there, 

Al armed, sauf hir heddes, in al hir gere, 2180 

Ful richely in alle manor thinges. 

For trusteth wel, that dukes, erles, kinges, 

Were gadered in this noble compaignye. 

For love, and for encrees of chivalrye. 

Aboute this king ther ran on every part 2185 

Ful many a tame leoun and leopart. 

And in this wise thise lordes, alle and some, 

Been on the Sonday to the citee come 

Aboute pryme, and in the toun alight. 

This Theseus, this duk, this worthy knight, 2190 

Whan he had broght hem into his citee, 
And inned hem, everich in his degree. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 69 

He festeth hem, and doth so greet labour 

To esen hem, and doon hem al honour, 

That yet men weneth that no mannes wit 2195 

Of noon estat ne coude amenden it. 

The minstralcye, the service at the feste, 

The grete yiftes to the moste and leste, 

The riche array of Theseus paleys, 

Ne who sat first ne last upon the deys, 2200 

What ladies fairest been or best daun singe, 

Or which of hem can dauncen best and singe, 

Ne who most felingly speketh of love ; 

What haukes sitten on the perche above. 

What houndes liggen on the floor adoun ; 2205 

Of al this make I now no mencioun; 

But al theffect, that thinketh me the beste. 

Now comth the poynt, and herkneth if yow leste. 

The Sonday night, er day bigan to springe, 
When Palamon the larke herde singe, 2210 

Although it nere nat day by houres two. 
Yet song the larke, and Palamon also. 
With holy herte and with an heigh corage 
He roos, to wenden on his pilgrimage 
Unto the blisful Citherea benigne, 2215 

I mene Venus, honurable and digne. 
And in hir houre he walketh forth a pas 
Unto the Hstes, ther hir temple was. 
And doun he kneleth with ful humble chere 
And herte soor, and seyde in this manere. 2220 

" Faireste of f aire, o lady myn Venus, 
Doughter to Jove, and spouse of Vulcanus, 
Thou gladere of the mount of Citheroun. 
For thilke love thou haddest to Adoun, 
Have pitee of my bittre teeres srnerte, ^225 



70 CHAUCER 

And tak myn humble preyere at thyn herte. 

Alias ! I ne have no langage to- telle 

Theff ectes ne the torments of myn helle ; 

Myn herte may myne harmes nat biwreye ; 

I am so confus, that I can noght seye. 2230 

But mercy, lady bright, that knowest wele 

My thought, and seest what harmes that I fele, 

Considere al this, and rewe upon my sore, 

As wisly as I shal for evermore, 

Emforth my might, thy trewe servant be, 2235 

And holden werre alwey with chastitee ; 

That make I myn avow, so ye me helpe. 

I kepe noght of armes for to yelpe. 

Ne I ne axe not tomorwe to have victorie, 

Ne renoun in this cas, ne veyne glorie 2240 

Of pris of armes blowen up and doun, 

But I wolde have fully possessioun 

Of Emelye, and dye in thy servyse; 

Find thou the maner how, and in what wyse. 

I recche nat, but it may bettre be, 2245 

To have victorie of hem, or they of me 

So that I have my lady in myne armes. 

For though so be that Mars is god of armes, 

Your vertu is so greet in hevene above 

That, if yow list, I shal wel have my love. 2250 

Thy temple wol I worshipe evermo. 

And on thyn auter, wher I ryde or go, 

I wol doon sacrifice, and fyres bete. 

And if ye wol nat so, my lady swete. 

Than preye I thee, tomorwe with a spere 2255 

That Arcita me thurgh the herte here. 

Than rekke I noght, whan I have lost my lyf. 

Though that Arcita winne hir to his wyf. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 71 

This is theffect and ende of my preyere, 

Yif me my love, thou blisful lady dere/' 2260 

Whan the orisoun was doon of Palamon, 
His sacrifice he dide, and that anon 
Ful pitously, with alle circumstaunces, 
Al telle I noght as now his observaunces. 
But atte laste the statue of Venus shook, 2265 

And made a signe, wherby that he took 
That his preyere accepted was that day. 
For thogh the signe shewed a delay, 
Yet wiste he wel that graunted was his bone ; 
And with glad herte he wente him hoom ful sone. 2270 

The thridde houre inequal that Palamon 
Bigan to Venus temple for to gon. 
Up roos the sonne and up roos Emelye, 
And to the temple of Diane gan hye. 
Hir maydens that she thider with hir ladde 2275 

Ful redily with hem the fyr they hadde, 
Thencens, the clothes, and the remenant al 
That to the sacrifice longen shal; 
The homes fuUe of meth, as was the gyse; 
Ther lakked noght to doon hir sacrifyse. 2280 

Smoking the temple, ful of clothes faire, 
This Emelye, with herte debonaire, 
Hir body wessh with water of a welle ; 
But how she dide hir ryte I dar nat telle, 
But it be any thing in general ; 2285 

And yet it were a game to heren al. 
To him that meneth wel, it were no charge, 
But it is good a man ben at his large. 
Hir brighte heer was kempd, untressed al; 
A coroune of a grene 00k cerial 2290 

Upon hir heed was set ful fair and mete. 



72 CHAUCER 

Two fyres on the auter gan she bete, 

And dide hir thinges, as men may biholde 

In Stace of Thebes, and thise bokes olde. 

Whan kindled was the fyr, with pitous chere 2295 

Unto Diane she spak as ye may here. 

** O chaste goddesse of the wodes grene, 
To whom bothe hevene and erthe and see is sane, 
Quene of the regne of Pluto derk and lowe, 
Goddesse of maydens, that myn herte hast knowe 2300 

Ful many a yeer, and woost what I desire. 
As keep me fro thy vengeaunce and thyn ire, 
That Attheon aboughte cruelly. 
Chaste goddesse, wel wostow that I 

Desire to been a mayden al my lyf, 2305 

Ne never wol I be no love ne wyf . 
I am, thou woost, yet of thy compaignye, 
A mayde, and love hunting and venerye, 
And for to walken in the wodes wilde. 
And noght to been a wyf, and be with childe. 2310 

Nought wol I knowe the compaignye of man. 
Now help me, lady, sith ye may and can. 
For tho thre formes that thou hast in thee. 
And Palamon, that hath swich love to me. 
And eek Arcite, that loveth me so sore, 2315 

This grace I preye thee withoute more. 
As sende love and pees bitwixe hem two ; 
And fro me turne awey hir hertes so. 
That al hir bote love, and hir desyr, 

And al hir bisy torment, and hir fyr 2320 

Be queynt, or turned in another place. 
And if so be thou wolt do me no grace, 
Or if my destinee be shapen so, 
That I shal nedes have oon of hem two, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 73 

As sende me him that most desireth me. 2325 

Bihold, goddesse of clene chastitee, 

The bittre teres that on my chekes falle. 

Syn thou art mayde, and kepere of us alle, 

My maydenhede thou kepe and wel conserve, 

And whyl I Kve a mayde, I wol thee serve." 2330 

The fyres brenne upon the auter clere, 
Whyl Emelye was thus in hir preyere ; 
But sodeinly she saugh a sighte queynte. 
For right anon oon of the fyres queynte. 
And quiked agayn, and after that anon 2335 

That other fyr was queynt, and al agon ; 
And as it queynte it made a whisteUnge, 
As doon thise wete brondes in hir brenninge, 
And at the brondes ende out-ran anoon 
As it were blody dropes many oon ; 2340 

For which so sore agast was Emelye, 
That she was wel ny mad, and gan to crye. 
For she ne wiste what it signifyed ; 
But only for the fere thus hath she cryed, 
And weep that it was pitee for to here. 2345 

And therwithal Diane gan appere, 
With bowe in bond, right as an hunteresse, 
And seyde, '* Doghter, stint thyn hevinesse. 
Among the goddes hye it is affermed. 

And by eterne word write and confermed, 2350 

Thou shalt ben wedded unto oon of tho 
That ban for thee so muchel care and wo ; 
But unto which of hem I may nat telle. 
Farwel, for I ne may no lenger dwelle. 
The fyres which that on myn auter brenne 2355 

Shul thee declaren, er that thou go henne, 
Thyn aventure of love, as in this cas.'* 



74 CHAUCER 

And with that word the arwes in the cas 

Of the goddesse clateren faste and ringe, 

And forth she wente and made a vanisshinge ; 2360 

For which this Emelye astoned was, 

And seyde, '' What amounteth this, alias ! 

I putte me in thy proteccioun, 

Diane, and in thy disposicioun." 

And hoom she goth anon the nexte weye. 2365 

This is theffect, ther is namore to seye. 

The nexte houre of Mars folwinge this, 
Arcite unto the temple walked is 
Of fierse Mars, to doon his sacrifise. 

With alle the rytes of his payen wise. 2370 

With pitous herte and heigh devocioun, 
Right thus to Mars he seyde his orisoun, 

**0 stronge god, that in the regnes colde 
Of Trace honoured art and lord yholde, 
And hast in every regne and every lond 2375 

Of armes al the brydel in thyn hond, 
And hem fortunest as thee list devyse, 
Accept of me my pitous sacrifise. 
If so be that my youthe may deserve, 

And that my might be worthy for to serve 2380 

Thy godhede, that I may ben oon of thyne, 
Than preye I thee to rewe upon my pyne. . . .^ 



For thilke sorwe that was in thyn herte. 

Have routhe as wel upon my peynes smerte. 

I am yong and unkonning, as thou wost, 

And, as I trowe, with love offended most, 

That ever was any lyves creature ; 2395 

1 See Note. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 75 

For she, that doth me al this wo endure, 

Ne reccheth never wher I sinke or flete. 

And wel I woot, er she me mercy hete, 

I moot with strengthe winne hir in the place ; 

And wel I woot withouten help or grace 2400 

Of thee, ne may my strengthe noght availle. 

Than help me, lord, tomorwe in my bataille. 

For thilke fyr that whilom brente thee 

As wel as thilke fyr now brenneth me ; 

And do that I tomorwe have victorie. 2405 

Myn be the travaille, and thyn be the glorie. 

Thy soverein temple wol I most honouren 

Of any place, and alwey most labouren 

In thy plesaunce and in thy craftes stronge, 

And in thy temple I wol my baner honge, 2410 

And alle the armes of my compaignye ; 

And evermo, unto that day I dye, 

Eterne fyr I wol biforn thee fynde. 

And eek to this avow I wol me bynde : 

My herd, myn heer that hongeth long adoun, 2415 

That never yet ne felte offensioun 

Of rasour nor of shere, I wol the yive. 

And ben thy trewe servant whil I live. 

Now lord, have routhe upon my sorwes sore, 

Yif me the victorie, I aske thee namore." 2420 

The preyere stinte of Arcita the stronge, 
The ringes on the temple dore that honge, 
And eek the dores, clatereden ful faste, 
Of which Arcita somwhat him agaste. 
The fyres brenden upon the auter brighte, 2425 

That it gan al the temple for to lighte ; 
And swete smel the ground anon up-yaf ; 
And Arcita anon his hand up-haf, 



76 CHAUCER 

And more encens into the fyr he caste, 

With othere rytes mo ; and atte laste 2430 

The statue of Mars bigan his hauberk ringe. 

And with that soun he herde a murmuringe 

Ful lowe and dim, that sayde thus, '' Victorie/* 

For which he yaf to Mars honour and glorie. 

And thus with joye and hope wel to fare, 2435 

Arcite anon unto his inne is fare. 

As fayn as fowel is of the brighte sonne. 

And right anon swich stryf ther is bigonne 
For thilke graunting, in the hevene above, 
Bitwixe Venus, the goddesse of love, 2440 

And Mars, the sterne god armipotente, 
That Jupiter was bisy it to stente; 
Til that the pale Saturnus the colde, 
That knew so manye of aventures olde, 
Fond in his olde experience an art, 2445 

That he ful sone hath plesed every part. 
As sooth is sayd, '' elde hath greet avantage,'' 
'* In elde is bothe wisdom and usage," 
*' Men may the olde at-renne, and noght at-rede/' 
Saturne anon, to stinten stryf and drede, 2450 

Al be it that it is agayn his kynde, 
Of al this stryf he gan remedie fynde. 

** My dere doughter Venus,'* quod Saturne, 
" My cours, that hath so wyde for to turne. 
Hath more power than wot any man. 2455 

Myn is the drenching in the see so wan ; 
Myn is the prison in the derke cote ; 
Myn is the strangling and hanging by the throte ; 
The murmure and the cherles rebelling. 
The groyning and the pryve empoysoning. 2460 

I do vengeance and pleyn correccioun. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 77 

Whyl I dwelle in the signe of the leoun. 

Myn is the ruine of the hye halles, 

The f alHng of the toures and of the walles 

Upon the mynour or the carpenter ; 2465 

I slow Sampsoun in shaking the piler. 

And myne be the maladyes colde, 

The derke tresons and the castes olde ; 

My looking is the fader of pestilence. 

Now weep namore, I shal doon diligence 2470 

That Palamon, that is thyn owne knight, 

Shal have his lady, as thou hast him hight. 

Though Mars shal helpe his knight, yet nathelees 

Bitwixe yow ther moot be som tyme pees, 

Al be ye noght of o compleccioun, 2475 

That causeth al day swich divisioun. 

I am thyn ayel, redy at thy wille ; 

Weep thou namore, I wol thy lust fulfille/* 

Now wol I stinten of the goddes above, 
Of Mars, and of Venus, goddesse of love, 2480 

And telle yow, as pleynly as I can, 
The grete effect, for which that I bigan. 

Explicit tercia pars. Sequitur pars quarta. 

Part IV 

Greet was the feste in Athenes that day, 
And eek the lusty seson of that May 

Made every wight to been in swich plesaunce, 2485 

That al that Monday justen they and daunce, 
And spenden it in Venus heigh servyse. 
But by the cause that they sholde ryse 
Erly, for to seen the grete fight. 
Unto hir reste wenten they at night 2490 



78 CHAUCER 

And on the morwe, whan that day gan springe, 
Of hors and harneys noyse and clateringe 
Ther was in hostelryes al aboute ; 
And to the paleys rood ther many a route 
Of lordes, upon stedes and palfreys. 2495 

Ther maystow seen devising of herneys 
So uncouth and so riche, and wroght so weel 
Of goldsmithrie, of browding, and of steel ; 
The sheeldes brighte, testers, and trappures ; 
Gold-hewen helmes, hauberks, cote-armures ; 2500 

Lordes in paraments on hir courseres, 
Knightes of retenue, and eek squyeres 
Nailinge the speres, and helmes bokelinge, 
Gigginge of sheeldes, with layneres lacinge ; 
Ther as need is, they weren no-thing ydel ; 2505 

The fomy stedes on the golden brydel 
Gnawinge, and faste the armurers also 
With fyle and hamer prikinge to and fro ; 
Yemen on fote, and communes many oon 
With shorte staves, thikke as they may goon ; 2510 

Pypes, trompes, nakers, clariounes, 
That in the bataille blowen blody sounes ; 
The paleys ful of peples up and doun, 
Heer thre, ther ten, holding hir questioun, 
Divyninge of thise Theban knightes two. 2515 

Somme seyden thus, somme seyde it shal be so ; 
Somme helden with him with the blake herd, 
Somme with the balled, somme with the thikke herd ; 
Somme sayde, he looked grim and he wolde fighte, 
He hath a sparth of twenty pound of wighte ; 2520 

Thus was the halle ful of divyninge, 
Longe after that the sonne gan to springe. 
The grete Theseus, that of his sleep awaked 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 79 

With minstralcye and noyse that was maked, 

Held yet the chambre of his paleys riche, 2525 

Til that the Theban knightes, bothe yliche 

Honoured, were into the paleys fet. 

Duk Theseus was at a window set, 

Arrayed right as he were a god in trone. 

The peple presseth thider-ward ful sone 2530 

Him for to seen, and doon heigh reverence, 

And eek to herkne his hest and his sentence. 

An heraud on a scaffold made an ** Ho ! '' 
Til al the noyse of peple was ydo ; 

And whan he saugh the peple of noyse al stille, 2535 

Tho shewed he the mighty dukes wille. 

" The lord hath of his heigh discrecioun 
Considered that it were destruccioun 
To gentil blood to fighten in the gyse 

Of mortal bataille now in this emprise ; 2540 

Wherfore, to shapen that they shul nat dye, 
He wol his firste purpos modifye. 
No man therfore, up peyne of los of lyf, 
No maner shot, ne pollax, ne short knyf 
Into the listes sende, ne thider bringe ; 2545 

Ne short swerd, for to stoke with poynt bytinge, 
No man ne drawe, ne here by his syde. 
Ne no man shal unto his felawe ryde 
But o cours with a sharp ygrounde spere ; 
Foyne, if him list, on fote, himself to were. 2550 

And he that is at meschief shal be take. 
And noght slayn, but be broght unto the stake 
That shal ben ordeyned on either syde ; 
But thider he shal by force, and ther abyde. 
And if so falle, the chieftayn be take 2555 

On either side, or elles sleen his make, 



8o CHAUCER 

No lenger shal the turneyinge laste. 

God spede yow ! Goth forth, and ley on faste. 

With long swerd and with maces fight your fille. 

Goth now your wey ; this is the lordes wille.'* 2560 

The voys of peple touchede the hevene, 
So loude cryden they with mery stevene, 
** God save swich a lord, that is so good, 
He wilneth no destruccioun of blood ! '' 

Up goon the trompes and the melodye, 2565 

And to the listes rit the compaignye 
By ordinaunce, thurghout the citee large, 
Hanged with cloth of gold, and nat with sarge. 
Ful lyk a lord this noble duk gan ryde, 
Thise two Thebanes upon either syde ; 2570 

And after rood the quene and Emelye, 
And after that another compaignye 
Of oon and other after hir degree. 
And thus they passen thurghout the citee, 
And to the listes come they by tyme. 2575 

It nas not of the day yet fully pryme. 
Whan set was Theseus ful riche and hye. 
Ypolita the quene and Emelye, 
And other ladies in degrees aboute. 

Unto the seetes presseth al the route ; 2580 

And westward, thurgh the gates under Marte, 
Arcite, and eek the hundred of his parte, 
With baner reed is entred right anon ; 
And in that selve moment Palamon 

Is under Venus, estward in the place, 2585 

With baner whyt, and hardy chere and face. 
In al the world, to seken up and doun, 
So evene withouten variacioun, 
Ther nere swiche compaignyes tweye, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 8i 

For ther nas noon so wys that coude seye 2590 

That any hadde of other avauntage, 

Of worthinesse, ne of estaat, ne age, 

So evene were they chosen, for to gesse ; 

And in two renges faire they hem dresse. 

Whan that hir names rad were everichoon, 2595 

That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon, 

Tho were the gates shet, and cried was loude, 

" Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude ! " 

The heraudes lef te hir priking up and doun ; 
Now ringen trompes loude and clarioun ; 2600 

Ther is namore to seyn, but west and est 
In goon the speres ful sadly in arest; 
In goth the sharpe spore into the syde. 
Ther seen men who can juste and who can ryde; 
Ther shiveren shaf tes upon sheeldes thikke ; 2605 

He feeleth thurgh the herte-spoon the prikke. 
Up springen speres twenty foot on highte; 
Out goon the swerdes as the silver brighte; 
The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede ; 
Out brest the blood with sterne stremes rede; 2610 

With mighty maces the bones they to-breste. 
He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste ; 
Ther stomblen steedes stronge, and doun goth al ; 
He rolleth under foot as doth a bal ; 

He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun, 2615 

And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun ; 
He thurgh the body is hurt, and sithen ytake, 
Maugree his heed, and broght unto the stake, 
As forward was, right ther he moste abyde; 
Another lad is on that other side. 2620 

And somtyme doth hem Theseus to reste, 
Hem to refresshe, and drinken if hem leste. 



82 CHAUCER 

Ful ofte a-day han thise Thebanes two 

Togidre ymet, and wroght his f elawe wo ; 

Unhorsed hath ech other of hem tweye. 2625 

Ther nas no tygre in the vale of Galgopheye, 

Whan that hir whelp is stole whan it is lyte, 

So cruel on the hunte, as is Arcite 

For jelous herte upon this Palamoun; 

Ne in Belmarie there nis so fel leoun, 2630 

That hunted is, or for his hunger wood, 

Ne of his praye desireth so the blood. 

As Palamon to sleen his foo Arcite. 

The jelous strokes on hir helmes byte ; 

Out renneth blood on bothe hir sydes rede. 2635 

Som tyme an ende ther is of every dede. 
For, er the sonne unto the reste wente. 
The stronge king Emetreus gan hente 
This Palamon, as he faught with Arcite, * 

And made his swerd depe in his flesh to byte ; 2640 

And by the force of twenty is he take 
Unyolden, and ydrawe unto the stake. 
And in the rescous of this Palamoun 
The stronge king Ligurge is born adoun ; 
And king Emetreus, for al his strengthe, 2645 

Is born out of his sadel a swerdes lengthe. 
So hitte him Palamon er he were take. 
But al for noght ; he was broght to the stake. 
His hardy herte mighte him helpe naught; 
He moste abyde, whan that he was caught, 2650 

By force, and eek by composicioun. 

Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun, 
That moot namore goon agayn to fighte ? 
And whan that Theseus hadde seyn this sighte, 
Unto the folk that foghten thus echon 2655 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 83 

He cryde, '' Ho, namore, for it is don ! 

I wol be trewe juge, and no party e. 

Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelye, 

That by his fortune hath hir faire ywonne/* 

Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne 2660 

For joye of this, so loude and heigh withalle. 

It semed that the listes sholde falle. 

What can now faire Venus doon above ? 
What seith she now, what doth this quene of love, 
But wepeth so, for wanting of hir wille, 2665 

Til that hir teeres in the listes fille ? 
She seyde, " I am ashamed, doutelees." 
Saturnus seyde, '' Doghter, hold thy pees; 
Mars hath his wille, his knight hath al his bone, 
And, by myn heed, thou shalt ben esed sone." 2670 

The trompes with the loude minstralcye. 
The heraudes, that ful loude yolle and. crye. 
Been in hir wele for joye of daun Arcite. 
But herkneth me, and stinteth now a lyte, 
Which a miracle ther bifel anon. 2675 

This fierse Arcite hath of his helm ydon. 
And on a courser, for to shewe his face. 
He priketh endelong the large place, 
Loking upward upon this Emelye ; 

And she agayn him caste a frendlich ye 2680 

(For wommen, as to speken in comune. 
They folwen al the favour of fortune), 
And was al his chere, as in his herte. 
Out of the ground a fyr infernal sterte, 
From Pluto sent, at requeste of Saturne, 2685 

For which his hors for fere gan to turne. 
And leep asyde, and foundred as he leep ; 
And er that Arcite may taken keep. 



84 CHAUCER 

He pighte him on the pomel of his heed, 

That in the place he lay as he were deed, 2690 

His brest to-brosten with his sadel-bowe. 

As blak he lay as any cole or crowe. 

So was the blood yronnen in his face. 

Anon he was yborn out of the place 

With herte soor, to Theseus paleys. 2695 

Tho was he corven out of his barneys. 

And in a bed ybrought ful faire and blyve, 

For he was yet in memorie and alyve, 

And alway crying after Emelye. 

Duk Theseus, with al his compaignye, 2700 

Is comen hoom to Athenes his citee, 
With alle blisse and greet solempnitee. 
Al be it that this aventure was falle, 
He nolde noght discomforten hem alle. 
Men seyden eek that Arcite shal nat dye, 2705 

He shal ben heled of his maladye. 
And of another thing they were as fayn. 
That of hem alle was ther noon yslayn, 
Al were they sore yhurt, and namely oon. 
That with a spere was thirled his brest-boon. 2710 

To othere woundes and to broken armes, 
Some hadden salves and some hadden charmes, 
Fermacies of herbes, and eek save 
They dronken, for they wolde hir lymes have. 
For which this noble duk, as he wel can, 2715 

Conforteth and honoureth every man. 
And made revel al the longe night 
Unto the straunge lordes, as was right. 
Ne ther was holden no disconfitinge. 

But as a justes or a tourneyinge ; * 2720 

For soothly ther was no disconfiture. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 85 

For falling nis nat but an aventure ; 

Ne to be lad by fors unto the stake 

Unyolden, and with twenty knightes take, 

O persone allone, withouten mo, 2725 

And haried forth by arme, foot, and too. 

And eek his steede driven forth with staves. 

With foot-men, bothe yemen and eek knaves, 

It nas aretted him no vileinye ; 

Ther may no man clepen it cowardye. 2730 

For which anon duk Theseus leet crye, 
To stinten alle rancour and envye, 
The gree as wel of o syde as of other. 
And either syde ylyk as otheres brother ; 
And yaf hem yiftes after hir degree, 2735 

And fully heeld a feste dayes three ; 
And conveyed the kinges worthily 
Out of his toun a journee largely. 
And hoom wente every man the righte way ; 
Ther was namore, but '' Far wel! " '*Have good day ! *' 2740 
Of this bataille I wol namore endyte. 
But speke of Palamon and of Arcite. 

Swelleth the brest of Arcite, and the sore 
Encreseth at his herte more and more. 
The clothered blood, for any lechecraft, 2745 

Corrupteth, and is in his bouk ylaft. 
That neither veyne-blood ne ventusinge, 
Ne drinke of herbes may ben his helpinge. 
The vertu expulsif, or animal. 

Fro thilke vertu cleped natural, 2750 

Ne may the venim voyden ne expelle. 
The pipes of his longes gonne to swelle, 
And every lacerte in his brest adoun 
Is shent with venim and corrupcioun. 



86 CHAUCER 

Him gayneth neither, for to gete his lyf, 2755 

Vomyt upward, ne dounward laxatif ; 

Al is to-brosten thilke regioun ; 

Nature hath now no dominacioun ; 

And certeynly, ther nature wol nat wirche, 

Farewel, phisik ! go ber the man to chirche. 2760 

This al and som, that Arcita moot dye, 

For which he sendeth after Emelye, 

And Palamon, that was his cosyn dere ; 

Than seyde he thus, as ye shul after here : 

*' Naught may the woful spirit in myn herte 2765 

Declare o poynt of alle my sorwes smerte 
To yow, my lady, that I love most — 
But I biquethe the service of my gost 
To yow aboven every creature, 

Sin that my lyf may no lenger dure. 2770 

Alias, the wo ! alias, the peynes stronge, 
That I for yow have suffred, and so longe ! 
Alias, the deeth ! alias, myn Emelye ! 
Alias, departing of our compaignye ! 

Alias, myn hertes queue ! alias, my wyf ! 2775 

Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf ! 
What is this world ? what asketh men to have ? 
Now with his love, now in his colde grave 
Allone, withouten any compaignye. 

Farwel, my swete fo ! myn Emelye ! 2780 

And softe tak me in your armes tweye. 
For love of God, and herkneth what I seye. 

I have heer with my cosyn Palamon 
Had stryf and rancour, many a day a-gon, 
For love of yow, and for my jelousye; 2785 

And Jupiter so wys my soule gye, 
To speken of a servaunt proprely, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 87 

With alle circumstaunces trewely, 

That is to seyn, trouthe, honour, knighthede, 

Wisdom, humblesse, estaat, and heigh kinrede, 2790 

Fredom, and al that longeth to that art, 

So Jupiter have of my soule part. 

As in this world right now ne knowe I non 

So worthy to ben loved as Palamon, 

That serveth yow, and wol doon al his lyf. 2795 

And if that ever ye shul been a wyf, 

Foryet nat Palamon, the gentil man." 

And with that word his speche faille gan, 
For from his feet up to his brest was come 
The cold of deeth, that hadde him overcome ; 2800 

And yet moreover in his armes two 
The vital strengthe is lost and al a-go. 
Only the intellect, withouten more. 
That dwelled in his herte syk and sore, 
Gan faillen when the herte felte deeth. 2805 

Dusked his eyen two and failled breeth, 
But on his lady yet caste he his ye; 
His laste word was, *' Mercy, Emelye ! " 
His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther, 
As I cam never, I can nat tellen wher. 2810 

Therfore I stinte, I nam no divinistre; 
Of soules finde I nat in this registre, 
Ne me ne list thilke opiniouns to telle 
Of hem, though that they wryten wher they dwelle. 
Arcite is cold, ther Mars his soule gye ; 2815 

Now wol I speken forth of Emelye. 

Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon, 
And Theseus his suster took anon 
Swowninge, and bar hir fro the corps away. 
What helpeth it to tarien forth the day, 2820 



88 CHAUCER 

To tellen how she weep, both eve and morwe? 

For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe, 

Whan that hir housbonds been from hem a-go, 

That for the more part they sorwen so, 

Or elles fallen in swich maladye, 2825 

That at the laste certeinly they dye. 

Infinite been the sorwes and the teres 
Of olde folk, and folk of tendre yeres, 
In al the toun, for deeth of this Theban; 
For him ther wepeth bothe child and man ; 2830 

So greet a weping was ther noon, certayn, 
Whan Ector was ybroght, al fresh yslayn, 
To Troye. Alias ! the pitee that was ther, 
Cracching of chekes, rending eek of heer. 
"Why woldestow be deed,'' thise wommen crye, 2835 

*' And haddest gold ynough and Emelye ?'' 
No man mighte gladen Theseus, 
Savinge his olde fader Egeus, 
That knew this worldes transmutacioun, 
As he had seyn it chaungen up and doun, 2840 

Joye after wo, and vo after gladnesse. 
And shewed hem ensamples and liknesse. 

" Right as ther deyed never man/' quod he, 
" That he ne livede in erthe in som degree. 
Right so ther livede never man," he seyde, 2845 

** In al this worlde, that som tyme he ne deyde. 
This world nis but a thurghfare ful of wo, 
And we been pilgrimes, passinge to and fro ; 
Deeth is an ende of every v/orldly sore." 
And over al this yet seyde he muchel more 2850 

To this effect, ful wysly to enhorte 
The peple that they sholde hem reconforte. 

Duk Theseus, with al his bisy cure. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 89 

Caste now wher that the sepulture 

Of good Arcite may best ymaked be, 2855 

And eek most honurable in his degree. 

And at the laste he took conclusioun, 

That ther as first Arcite and Palamoun 

Hadden for love the bataille hem bitwene, 

That in that selve grove, swote and grene, 2860 

Ther as he hadde his amorous desires. 

His compleynt, and for love his bote fires, 

He wolde make a fyr, in which thoffice 

Funeral he mighte all accomplice ; 

And leet comaunde anon to hakke and hewe 2865 

The okes olde, and leye hem on a rewe 

In colpons wel arrayed for to brenne. 

His officers with swifte feet they renne, 

And ryde anon at his comaundement. 

And after this Theseus hath ysent 2870 

After a here, and it al overspradde 

With cloth of gold, the richest that he hadde ; 

And of the same suyte he cladde Arcite ; 

Upon his hondes hadde he gloves whyte; 

Eek on his heed a croune of laurer grene, 2875 

And in his bond a swerd ful bright and kene. 

He leyde him, bare the visage, on the here ; 

Therwith he weep that pitee was to here. 

And for the peple sholde seen him alle. 

Whan it was day, he broghte him to the halle, 2880 

That roreth of the crying and the soun. 

Tho cam this woful Theban Palamoun, 
With flotery herd, and ruggy ashy heres. 
In clothes blake, ydropped al with teres, 
And passing othere of weping, Emelye, 2885 

The rewfulleste of al the compaignye. 



go CHAUCER 

In as muche as the service sholde be 

The more noble and riche in his degree, 

Duk Theseus leet forth three steedes bringe, 

That trapped were in steel al gliteringe, 2890 

And covered with the armes of daun Arcite. 

Upon thise steedes, that weren grete and white, 

Ther seten folk, of which oon bar his sheeld. 

Another his spere up in his hondes heeld. 

The thridde bar with him his bowe Turkeys, — 2895 

Of brend gold was the cas, and eek the barneys ; 

And riden forth a pas with sorweful chere 

Toward the grove, as ye shul after here. 

The nobleste of the Grekes that ther were 

Upon hir shuldres carieden the here, 2900 

With slake pas, and eyen rede and wete, 

Thurghout the citee, by the maister-strete, 

That sprad was al with blak, and wonder hye 

Right of the same is al the strete ywrye. 

Upon the right bond wente old Egeus, 2905 

And on that other syde duk Theseus, 

With vessels in hir hand of gold ful fyn, 

Al ful of hony, milk, and blood, and wyn ; 

Eek Palamon, with ful greet compaignye ; 

And after that cam woful Emelye, 2910 

With fyr in honde, as was that tyme the gyse, 

To do thoffice of funeral servyse. 

Heigh labour, and ful greet apparaillinge 
Was at the service and the fyr-makinge. 
That with his grene top the heven raughte, 2915 

And twenty f adme of brede the armes straughte ; 
This is to seyn, the bowes were so brode. 
Of stree first ther was leyd ful many a lode. 
But how the fyr was maked up on highte, 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 91 

And eek the names how the trees highte, 2920 

As 00k, firre, birch, asp, alder, holm, popler, 

Wilow, elm, plane, ash, box, chasteyn, lind, laurer, 

Mapul, thorn, beech, hasel, ew, whippeltre. 

How they weren f eld shal nat be told for me ; 

Ne how the goddes ronnen up and doun, 2925 

Disherited of hir habitacioun. 

In which they woneden in reste and pees, 

Nymphes, faunes, and amadriades ; 

Ne how the bestes and the briddes alle 

Fledden for fere, whan the wode was falle ; 2930 

Ne how the ground agast was of the light, 

That was nat wont to seen the sonne bright ; 

Ne how the fyr was couched first with stree. 

And than with drye stokkes cloven a three. 

And than with grene wode and spicerye, 2935 

And than with cloth of gold, and with perrye. 

And gerlandes hanging with ful many a flour. 

The mirre, thencens, with al so greet odour ; 

Ne how Arcite lay among al this, 

Ne what richesse aboute his body is ; 2940 

Ne how that Emelye, as was the gyse, 

Putte in the fyr of funeral servyse ; 

Ne how she swowned whan men made the fyr, 

Ne what she spak, ne what was hir desyr ; 

Ne what jewels men in the fyr tho caste, 2945 

Whan that the fyr was greet and brente faste ; 

Ne how som caste hir sheeld, and som hir spere. 

And of hir vestiments, whiche that they were. 

And cuppes ful of wyn, and milk, and blood. 

Into the fyr, that brente as it were wood ; 2950 

Ne how the Grekes, with an huge route, 

Thryes riden al the fyr aboute 



92 CHAUCER 

Upon the left hand, with a loud shoutinge, 

And thryes with hir spares clateringe ; 

And thryes how the ladies gonne crye ; 2955 

Ne how that lad was homward Emelye ; 

Ne how Arcite is brent to asshen colde ; 

Ne how that liche-wake was yholde 

Al thilke night, ne how the Grekes pleye 

The wake-pleyes ; ne kepe I nat to seye 2960 

Who wrastleth best naked, with oille enoynt, 

Ne who that bar him best in no disjoynt. 

I wol nat tellen eek how that they goon 

Hoom til Athenes whan the pley is doon. 

But shortly to the poynt than wol I wende, 2965 

And maken of my longe tale an ende. 

By processe and by lengthe of certeyn yeres 
Al stinted is the moorning and the teres 
Of Grekes, by oon general assent. 

Than semed me ther was a parlement 2970 

At Athenes, upon certeyn poynts and cas ; 
Among the whiche poynts yspoken was 
To have with certeyn contrees alliaunce. 
And have fully of Thebans obeisaunce. 
For which this noble Theseus anon 2975 

Leet senden after gentil Palamon, 
Unwist of him what was the cause and why; 
But in his blake clothes sorwefuUy 
He cam at his comaundement in hye. 

Tho sente Theseus for Emelye. 2980 

Whan they were set, and bust was al the place, 
And Theseus abiden hadde a space 
Er any word cam from his wyse brest. 
His eyen sette he ther as was his lest. 
And with a sad visage he syked stille, 2985 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 



93 



And after that right thus he seyde his vville. 

**The Firste Moevere of the cause above, 
Whan he first made the faire cheyne of love, 
Greet was theffect, and heigh was his entente ; 
Wei wiste he why, and what therof he mente ; 2990 

For with that faire cheyne of love he bond 
The fyr, the eyr, the water, and the lond 
In certeyn boundes, that they may nat flee. 
That same Prince and that Moevere," quod he, 
" Hath stablissed in this wrecched world adoun 2995 

Certeyne dayes and duracioun 
To al that is engendred in this place, 
Over the whiche day they may nat pace, 
Al mowe they yet tho dayes wel abregge ; 
Ther needeth non auctoritee tallegge, 3000 

For it is preved by experience, 
But that me list declaren my sentence. 
Than may men by this ordre wel discerne. 
That thilke Moevere stable is and eterne. 

"Wel may men knowe, but it be a fool, 3005 

That every part deryveth from his hool. 
For nature hath nat take his biginning 
Of no partye ne cantel of a thing, 
But of a thing that parfit is and stable. 
Descending so, til it be corrumpable. 3010 

And therfore of his wise purveiaunce. 
He hath so wel biset his ordinaunce. 
That speces of thinges and progressiouns 
Shullen enduren by successiouns. 

And nat eterne, withouten any lye ; 3015 

This maistow understonde and seen at eye. 

" Lo the 00k, that hath so long a norisshinge 
From tyme that it first biginneth springe. 



94 CHAUCER 

And hath so long a lyf as we may see, 

Yet at the laste wasted is the tree. 3020 

Considereth eek, how that the harde stoon 

Under our feet, on which we trede and goon, 

Yit wasteth it, as it lyth by the weye. 

The brode river somtyme wexeth dreye, 

The grete tounes see we wane and wende ; 3025 

Than may ye see that al this thing hath ende. 

*' Of man and womman seen we wel also, 
That nedeth in oon of thise termes two. 
This is to seyn, in youthe or elles age. 
He moot ben deed, the king as shal a page; 3030 

Som in his bed, som in the depe see, 
Som in the large feeld, as men may se. 
Ther helpeth noght, all goth that ilke weye. 
Than may I seyn that al this thing moot deye. 
What maketh this but Jupiter the king, 3035 

The which is prince and cause of alle thing, 
Converting al unto his propre welle, 
From which it is deryved, sooth to telle ? 
And here-agayns no creature on lyve. 
Of no degree, availleth for to stryve. 3040 

*' Thanne is it wisdom, as it thinketh me. 
To maken * vertu of necessitee * 
And take it wel that we may nat eschue. 
And namely that to us alle is due. 

And whoso gruccheth ought, he doth folye, 3045 

And rebel is to him that al may gye 
And certeynly a man hath most honour 
To dyen in his excellence and flour. 
Whan he is siker of his gode name ; 

Than hath he doon his freend, ne him, no shame. 3050 

And gladder oghte his freend ben of his deeth. 



THE KNIGHTES TALE 95 

Whan with honour up-yolden is his breeth, 

Than whan his name apalled is for age, 

For al forgeten is his vasselage. 

Than is it best, as for a worthy fame, 3055 

To dyen whan that he is best of name. 

The contrarie of all this is wilfulnesse. 

Why grucchen we, why have we hevinesse, 

That good Arcite, of chivalrye flour, 

Departed is, with duetee and honour, 3060 

Out of this f oule prison of this lyf ? 

Why grucchen heer his cosyn and his wyf 

Of his welfare that loved hem so wel ? 

Can he hem thank ? Nay, God woot, never a del 

That bothe his soule and eek hemself offende, 3065 

And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende. 

**What may I conclude of this longe serie. 
But after wo I rede us to be merie. 
And thanken Jupiter of all his grace ? 
And er that we departen from this place, 3070 

I rede that we make of sorwes two 
O parfit joye, lasting evermo : 
And looketh now, wher most sorwe is herinne, 
Ther wol we first amenden and biginne. 

"Suster," quod he, **this is my fulle assent, 3075 

With al thavys heer of my parlement. 
That gentil Palamon, thyn owne knight. 
That serveth yow with wille, herte, and might. 
And ever hath doon, sin that ye first him knewe, 
That ye shul, of your grace, upon him rewe, 3080 

And taken him for housbonde and for lord. 
Leen me your bond, for this is our acord. 
Lat see now of your wommanly pitee. 
He is a kinges brother sone, pardee, 



96 CHAUCER 

And, though he were a poure bacheler, 3085 

Sin he hath served yow so many a yeer, 
And had for yow so greet adversitee, 
It moste been considered, leveth me ; 
For gentil mercy oghte to passen right.'* 

Than seyde he thus to Palamon ful right, 3090 

" I trowe ther nedeth litel sermoning 
To make yow assente to this thing. 
Com neer, and tak your lady by the bond/' 
Betwixen hem was maad anon the bond, 
That highte matrimoigne or mariage, 3095 

By al the counseil and the baronage. 
And thus with alle blisse and melodye 
Hath Palamon ywedded Emelye. 
And God, that al this wyde world hath wroght, 
Sende him his love, that hath it dere aboght. 3100 

For now is Palamon in alle wele. 
Living in blisse, in richesse, and in hele ; 
.And Emelye him loveth so tendrely. 
And he hir serveth also gentilly. 

That nevere was ther no word hem bitwene 3105 

Of jalousie, or any other tene. 

Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye ; 
And God save al this faire compaignye ! Amen. 

Here is ended the Knightes Tale. 



HEAD-LINK TO SIR THOPAS 

[B. 1881-1901] 

Bihold the Murye Wordes of the Host to Chaucer 

Whan seyd was al this miracle, every man 

As sobre was that wonder was to se, 

Til that our Hoste japen tho bigan, 

And than at erst he loked upon me, 

And seyde thus, '*What man artow?" quod he, 1885 

" Thou lokest as thou woldest finde an hare. 

For ever upon the ground I se thee stare. 

Approche neer, and loke up murily. 

Now war yow, sirs, and lat this man have place. 

He in the waast is shape as wel as I ; 1890 

This were a popet in an arm tenbrace 

For any womman, smal and fair of face. 

He semeth elvish by his countenance. 

For unto no wight dooth he daliaunce. 

Sey now somwhat, sin other folk han sayd. 1895 

Tel us a tale of mirthe, and that anoon.'' 

'* Hoste," quod I, "ne beth nat yvel apayd. 

For other tale, certes, can I noon. 

But of a ryme I lerned longe agoon." 

'' Ye, that is good," quod he ; *' now shul we here 1900 

Som deyntee thing, me thinketh, by his chere." 

Explicit, 
97 



THE NONNE PREESTES TALE 

[B. 401 1-4636] 

Here Biginneth the Nonne Freest es Tale of the Cok and Hen^ 
Chauntecleer and Pertelote 

A POURE widwe, somdel stape in age, 
Was whilom dwelling in a narwe cotage, 
Biside a grove, stonding in a dale. 
This widwe, of which I telle yow my tale, 
Sin thilke day that she was last a wyf, 4015 

In pacience ladde a f ul simple lyf. 
For litel was hir catel and hir rente. 
By housbondrie of swich as God hir sente. 
She fond hirself, and eek hir doghtren two. 
Three large sowes hadde she, and namo, 4020 

Three kyn and eek a sheep that highte Malle. 
Ful sooty was hir hour, and eek hir halle. 
In which she eet ful many a sclendre meel. 
Of poynaunt sauce hir neded never a deel ; 
No deyntee morsel passed thurgh hir throte, 4025 

Hir diete was accordant to hir cote ; 
Repleccioun ne made hir never sik; 
Attempre dyete was al hir phisik. 
And exercise, and hertes suffisaunce. 

The goute lette hir nothing for to daunce, 4030 

Napoplexie shente nat hir heed ; 
No wyn ne drank she, neither whyt ne reed ; 
Hir bord was served most with whyt and blak. 
Milk and broun breed, in which she fond no lak, 
Seynd bacoun, and somtyme an ey or tweye, 4035 

For she was as it were a maner deye. 

98 



THE NONNE PREESTES TALE 99 

A yerd she hadde, enclosed al aboute 
With stikkes, and a drye dych withoute, 
In which she hadde a cok, hight Chauntecleer, 
In al the land of crowing nas his peer. 4040 

His vois was merier than the merye orgon 
On messe-dayes that in the chirche gon ; 
Wei sikerer was his crowing in his logge, 
Than is a clokke, or an abbey orlogge. 
By nature knew he ech ascencioun 4045 

Of equinoxial in thilke toun ; 
For whan degrees fiftene were ascended, 
Than crew he, that it mighte nat ben amended. 
His comb was redder than the fyn coral. 
And batailled as it were a castel wal. 4050 

His byle was blak, and as the jeet it shoon ; 
Lyk asur were his legges and his toon ; 
His nayles whiter than the lilie flour. 
And lyk the burned gold was his colour. 

This gentil cok hadde in his governaunce 4055 

Sevene hennes, for to doon al his plesaunce, 
Whiche were his sustres and his paramours. 
And wonder lyk to him, as of colours ; 
Of whiche the faireste hewed on hir throte 
Was cleped faire damoysele Pertelote. 4060 

Curteys she was, discreet, and debonaire. 
And compaignable, and bar hirself so faire, 
Sin thilke day that she was seven night old. 
That trewely she '' hath " the '' herte in hold *' 
Of Chauntecleer loken in every lith ; 4065 

He loved hir so, that wel him was therwith. 
But swich a joye was it to here hem singe. 
Whan that the brighte sonne gan to springe. 
In swete accord, ** My lief is faren in londe.'' 



lOO CHAUCER 

For thilke tyme, as I have understonde, 4070 

Bestes and briddes coude speke and singe. 

And so bifel that, in a daweninge, 
As Chauntecleer among his wyves alle 
Sat on his perche that was in the halle, 
And next him sat this faire Pertelote, 4075 

This Chauntecleer gan gronen in his throte, 
As man that in his dreem is drecched sore. 
And whan that Pertelote thus herde him rore, 
She was agast, and seyde, *' O herte deere, 
What eyleth yow, to grone in this manere ? 4080 

Ye been a verray sleper, fy for shame ! *' 
And he answerde and seyde thus, ** Madame, 
I pray yow, that ye take it nat agrief : 
By God, me mette I was in swich meschief 
Right now, that yet myn herte is sore afright. 4085 

Now God," quod he, " my swevene recche aright. 
And keep my body out of foul prisoun ! 
Me mette how that I romed up and doun 
Withinne our yerde, wher as I saugh a beest. 
Was lyk an hound, and wolde han maad areest 4090 

Upon my body, and wolde han had me deed. 
His colour was bitwixe yelwe and reed ; 
And tipped was his tail, and bothe his eres 
With blak, unlyk the remenant of his heres; 
His snowte smal, with glowing eyen tweye. 4095 

Yet of his look for fere almost I deye ; 
This caused me my groning, doutelees/' 

" Avoy ! '* quod she, *' fy on yow, hertelees ! 
Alias ! '' quod she, '' for, by that God above. 
Now han ye lost myn herte and al my love ; 4100 

I can nat love a coward, by my feith ! 
For certes, what so any womman seith 



THE NONNE PREESTES TALE loi 

We alle desiren, if it mighte be 

To han housbondes hardy, wyse, and free, 

And secree, and no nigard, ne no fool, 4105 

Ne him that is agast of every tool, 

Ne noon avauntour, by that God above ! 

How dorste ye seyn for shame unto your love, 

That any thing mighte make yow af erd ? 

Have ye no mannes herte, and han a berd ? 4110 

Alias ! and conne ye been agast of swevenis ? 

Nothing, God wot, but vanitee, in sweven is. 

Swevenes engendren of replecciouns. 

And ofte of fume, and of complecciouns. 

Whan humours been to habundant in a wight. 4115 

Certes this dreem, which ye han met tonight, 

Cometh of the grete superfluitee 

Of youre rede colera^ pardee, 

Which causeth folk to dreden in here dremes 

Of arwes, and of fyr with rede lemes, 4120 

Of rede bestes, that they wol hem byte. 

Of contek and of whelpes grete and lyte ; 

Right as the humour of malencolye 

Causeth ful many a man in sleep to crye, 

For fere of blake beres, or boles blake, 4125 

Or ellCvS, blake develes wole him take. 

Of othere humours coude I telle also. 

That werken many a man in sleep ful wo : 

But I wol passe as lightly as I can. . . ." 

Pertelote reminds him that Cato said that no reliance should be placed on 
dreams, and advises the aid of physic for his melancholy. Chauntecleer re- 
turns courteous thanks for her advice, but points out that many a man greater 
than Cato has believed that dreams have meaning. He tells the story (origi- 
nally from classical sources) of two acquaintances lodging apart in a strange 
city, one of whom dreamed that the other had been murdered and his body 



I02 CHAUCER 

hidden in a cart-load of dung, and how the dream led to the discovery of the 
murder; this story he follows with others of like true warnings afforded by 
dreams. He then gracefully concludes his long and admirable oration, with 
a compliment to Madame Pertelote : 

** Now let US speke of mirthe, and stinte al this; 
Madame Pertelote, so have I blis, 
Of o thing God hath sent me large grace ; 
For whan I see the beautee of your face, 4350 

Ye been so scarlet-reed about youre yen, 
It maketh al my drede for to dyen. 
For, also siker as ' In principio^' 
* Mulier est hominis confusio ; * 

Madame, the sentence of this Latin is — 4355 

Womman is mannes joye and al his blis. ... 
I am so ful of joye and of solas 4360 

That I defye bothe sweven and dreem/* 

And with that word he fley doun fro the beem. 
For it was day, and eek his hennes alle; 
And with a chuk he gan hem for to calle. 
For he had founde a corn, lay in the yerd. 4365 

Roial he was, he was namore aferd ... 
He looketh as it were a grim leoun ; 

And on his toos he rometh up and doun, 4370 

Him deyned nat to sette his foot to grounde. 
He chukketh, whan he hath a corn yfounde. 
And to him rennen thanne his wyves alle. 
Thus roial, as a prince is in his halle, 

Leve I this Chauntecleer in his pasture, 4375 

And after wol I telle his aventure. 

Whan that the month in which the world bigan. 
That highte March, whan God first maked man. 
Was compleet, and passed were also 
— Sin March bigan — thritty dayes and two, 4380 



THE NONNE PREESTES TALE 103 

Bifel that Chauntecleer in al his pryde, 

His seven wyves walking by his syde, 

Caste up his eyen to the brighte sonne, 

That in the signe of Taurus hadde yronne 

Twenty degrees and oon, and somwhat more, 4385 

And knew by kynde, and by noon other lore, 

That it was pryme, and crew with blisful stevene. 

**The Sonne," he sayde, **is clomben up on hevene 

Fourty degrees and oon, and more, ywis. 

Madame -Pertelote, my worldes blis, 4390 

Herkneth thise blisful briddes how they singe. 

And see the fresshe floures how they springe ; 

Ful is myn hert of revel and solas/' 

But sodeynly him fil a sorweful cas ; 

For ever the ** latter ende of joye is wo/* 4395 

God woot that worldly joye is sone ago; 

And if a rethor coude f aire endite. 

He in a cronicle saufly mighte it write, 

As for a sovereyn notabilitee. 

Now every wys man, lat him herkne me ; 4400 

This storie is also trewe, I undertake. 

As is the book of Launcelot de Lake, 

That wommen holde in ful gret reverence. 

Now wol I torne agayn to my sentence. 

A coif ox, ful of sly iniquitee, 4405 

That in the grove hadde woned yeres three, 
By heigh imaginacioun forn-cast. 
The same night thurghout the hegges brast 
Into the yerd, ther Chauntecleer the faire 
Was wont, and eek his wyves, to repaire ; 4410 

And in a bed of wortes stille he lay. 
Til it was passed undern of the day. 
Waiting his tyme on Chauntecleer to falle, 



I04 CHAUCER 

As gladly doon thise homicydes alle 

That in await liggen to mordre men. 4415 

O false mordrer, lurking in thy den ! 

O newe Scariot, newe Genilon ! 

False dissimilour, O Greek Sinon, 

That broghtest Troye al outrely to sorwe ! 

Chauntecleer, acursed be that morwe, 4420 
That thou into that yerd fleigh fro the hemes ! 

Thou were ful wel ywarned by thy dremes 

That thilke day was perilous to thee. 

But what that God forwot mot nedes be 

After the opinioun of certeyn clerkis. 4425 

Witnesse on him that any parfit clerk is, 

That in scole is greet altercacioun 

In this matere, and greet disputisoun, 

And hath ben of an hundred thousand men. 

But I ne can not bulte it to the bren, 4430 

As can the holy doctour Augustyn, 

Or Boece, or the bishop Bradwardyn, 

Whether that Goddes worthy forwiting 

Streyneth me nedely for to doon a thing — 

Nedely clepe I simple necessitee — 4435 

Or elles if free choys be graunted me 

To do that same thing, or do it noght. 

Though God forwot it, er that it was wroght ; 

Or if his witing streyneth never a del, 

But by necessitee condicionel. 4440 

1 wol not han to do of swich matere ; 
My tale is of a cok, as ye may here, 

That took his counseil of his wyf, with sorwe, 

To walken in the yerd upon that morwe 

That he hadde met that dreem that I you tolde. 4445 

** Wommennes counseils been ful ofte colde," 



THE NONNE PREESTES TALE 105 

Wommannes counseil broghte us first to wo, 

And made Adam fro paradys to go, 

Ther as he was ful mery, and wel at ese. 

But for I noot, to whom it might displese, 4450 

If I counseil of wommen wolde blame, 

Passe over, foF I seyde it in my game. 

Rede auctours, wher they trete of swich matere, 

And what they seyn of wommen ye may here. 

Thise been the cokkes wordes, and nat myne ; 4455 

I can noon harme of no womman divyne. 

Faire in the sond, to bathe hire merily, 
Lyth Pertelote, and alle hir sustres by, 
Agayn the sonne ; and Chauntecleer so free 
Song merrier than the mermayde in the see, 4460 

For Phisiologus seith sikerly. 
How that they singen wel and merily. 
And so bifel that as he caste his ye 
Among the wortes, on a boterflye. 

He was war of this fox that lay ful lowe. 4465 

Nothing ne liste him thanne for to crowe. 
But cryde anon, " cok, cok," and up he sterte, 
As man that was aff rayed in his herte ; 
For naturelly a beest desyreth flee 

Fro his contrarie, if he may it see, 4470 

Though he never erst hadde seyn it with his ye. 

This Chauntecleer, whan he gan him espye, 
He wolde han fled, but that the fox anon 
Seyde, "Gentil sire, alias ! wher wol ye gon } 
Be ye affrayed of me that am your f reend } 4475 

Now certes, I were worse than a feend. 
If I to yow wolde harm or vileinye. 
I am nat come your counseil for tespye ; 
But, trewely, the cause of my cominge 



io6 CHAUCER 

Was only for to herkne how that ye singe. 4480 

For trewely ye have as mery a stevene 
As any aungel hath that is in hevene ; 
Therwith ye han in musik more feUnge 
Than hadde Boece, or any that can singe. 
My lord your fader (God his soule blesse!), • 4485 

And eek your moder, of hir gentilesse, 
Han in myn hous ybeen, to my gret ese; 
And certes, sire, ful fayn wolde I yow plese. 
But for men speke of singing, I wol seye, 
So mote I brouke wel myn eyen tweye, 4490 

Save yow, I herde never man so singe. 
As dide your fader in the morweninge. 
Certes, it was of herte, al that he song ; 
And for to make his voys the more strong, 
He wolde so peyne him, that with both his yen 4495 

He moste winke, so loude he wolde cryen, 
And stonden on his tiptoon therwithal, 
And strecche forth his nekke long and smal. 
And eek he was of swich discrecioun 

That ther nas no man in no regioun 4500 

That him in song or wisdom mighte passe. 
I have weel rad in daun Burnel the Asse, 
Among his vers, how that ther was a cok. 
For that a preestes sone yaf him a knok 
Upon his leg, whyl he was yong and nyce, 4505 

He made him for to lese his benefice. 
But certeyn, ther nis no comparisoun 
Bitwix the wisdom and discrecioun 
Of youre fader, and of his subtiltee. 

Now singeth, sire, for seynte charitee, 4510 

Lat se, conne ye your fader countrefete ? " 
This Chauntecleer his winges gan to bete. 



THE NONNE PREESTES TALE 107 

As man that coude his tresoun nat espye, 

So was he ravisshed with his flaterye. 

Alias ! ye lordes, many a fals flatour 4515 

Is in your courtes, and many a losengeour, 

That plesen yow wel more, by my feith, 

Than he that soothfastnesse unto yow seith. 

Redeth Ecclesiaste of flaterye ; 

Beth war, ye lordes, of hir trecherye. 4520 

This Chauntecleer stood hye upon his toos, 
Strecching his nekke, and held his eyen cloos, 
And gan to crowe loude for the nones ; 
And daun Russel the fox sterte up at ones, 
And by the gargat hente Chauntecleer, 4525 

And on his bak toward the wode him beer, 
For yet ne was ther no man that him sewed. 

O destinee, that mayst nat been eschewed ! 
Alias, that Chauntecleer fleigh fro the hemes ! ^ 
Alias, his wyf ne roghte nat of dremes ! 4530 

And on a Friday fil al this meschaunce. 
O Venus, that art goddesse of plesaunce. 
Sin that thy servant was this Chauntecleer, 
And in thy service dide al his poweer. 
More for delyt than world to multiplye, 4535 

Why woltestow suffre him on thy day to dye ? 
O Gaufred, dere mayster soverayn. 
That, whan thy worthy king Richard was slayn 
With shot, compleynedest his deth so sore, 
Why ne hadde I now thy sentence and thy lore, 4540 

The Friday for to chide, as diden ye ? — 
For on a Friday soothly slayn was he — 
Than wolde I shewe yow how that I coude pleyne 
For Chauntecleres drede, and for his peyne. 

Certes, swich cry ne lamentacioun 4545 



io8 CHAUCER 

Was nevere of ladies maad whan Ilioun 

Was wonne, and Pirrus with his streite swerd, 

Whan he hadde hent king Priam by the herd, 

And slayn him, as saith us Eneydos, 

As maden alle the hennes in the clos, 4550 

Whan they had seyn of Chauntecleer the sighte. 

But sovereynly dame Pertelote shrighte, 

Ful louder than dide Hasdrubales wyf, 

Whan that hir housbond hadde lost his lyf, 

And that the Romayns hadde brend Cartage — 4555 

She was so ful of torment and of rage, 

That wilfully into the fyr she sterte. 

And brende hirselven with a stedfast herte. 

O woful hennes, right so cryden ye, 

As, whan that Nero brende the citee 4560 

Of Rome, cryden senatoures wyves. 

For that hir housbondes losten alle her lyves, 

Withouten gilt — this Nero hath hem slayn. 

Now wol I torne to my tale agayn, 

This sely widwe, and eek hir doghtres two, 4565 

Herden thise hennes crye and maken wo, 
And out at dores sterten they anoon. 
And syen the fox toward the grove goon, 
And bar upon his bak the cok away ; 

Andcriden, "Out!'' "Harrow!" and "Weylaway!'' 4570 
" Ha, ha, the fox !'' and after him they ran. 
And eek with staves many another man; 
Ranne Colle our dogge, and Talbot, and Gerland, 
And Malkin, with a distaf in hir hand ; 
Ran cow and calf, and eek the verray hogges, 4575 

So were they fered for berking of the dogges 
And shouting of the men and wommen eke. 
They ronne so, hem thoughte hir herte breke. 




THE NONNE PREESTES TALE icQ 

They yelleden as feendes doon in helle ; 

The dokes cryden as men wolde hem quelle ; 4580 

The gees for fere flowen over the trees ; 

Out of the hy ve cam the swarm of bees ; 

So hidous was the noyse, a ! benedicite ! 

Certes, he Jakke Straw, and his meynee, 

Ne made never shoutes half so shrille, 4585 

Whan that they wolden any Fleming kille, 

As thilke day was maad upon the fox. 

Of bras they broghten hemes, and of box, 

Of horn, of boon, in whiche they blewe and pouped. 

And therwithal they shryked and they houped ; 4590 

It semed as that hevene sholde falle. 

Now, goode men, I pray yow herkneth alle ! 
Lo, how fortune turneth sodeynly 
The hope and pryde eek of hir enemy ! 
This cok, that lay upon the foxes bak, 4595 

In al his drede unto the fox he spak. 
And seyde, " Sire, if that I were as ye. 
Yet wolde I seyn — as wys God helpe me — 
* Turneth agayn, ye proude cherles alle ! 
A verray pestilence upon yow falle ! 4600 

Now am I come unto this wodes syde, 
Maugree your heed, the cok shal heer abyde ; 
I wol him ete in feith, and that anon.' " 
The fox answerde, " In feith, it shal be don '' — 
And as he spak that word, al sodeynly 4605 

This cok brak from his mouth deliverly, 
And heighe upon a tree he fleigh anon. 
And whan the fox saugh that he was ygon, 
'' Alias ! '' quod he, '' O Chauntecleer, alias ! 
I have to yow," quod he, *'ydoon trespas, 4613 

Inasmuche as I maked yow aferd. 



no CHAUCER 

Whan I yow hente, and broghte out of the yerd ; 

But, sire, I dide it in no wikke entente ; 

Com doun, and I shal tel yow what I mente. 

I shal seye sooth to you, God help me so ! '* 4615 

" Nay, than," quod he, '' I shrewe us bothe two, 

And first I shrewe myself, bothe blood and bones, 

If thou bigyle me ofter than ones. 

Thou shalt namore, thurgh thy flaterye 

Do me to singe and winken with myn ye. 4620 

For he that winketh, whan he sholde see, 

Al wilfully, God lat him never thee ! " 

" Nay," quod the fox, **but God yeve him meschaunce, 

That is so undiscreet of governaunce. 

That jangleth whan he sholde holde his pees." 4625 

Lo, swich it is for to be recchelees. 
And necligent, and truste on flaterye. 
But ye that holden this tale a folye, 
As of a fox, or of a cok and hen, 

Taketh the moralitee, good men. 4630 

For Seynt Paul seith, that al that writen is, 
To our doctryne it is ywrite, ywis. 
Taketh the fruyt, and let the chaf be stille. 

Now, goode God, if that be thy wille, 
As seith my Lord, so make us alle good men, 4635 

And bringe us to his heighe blisse. Amen. 

Here is ended the Nonne Preestes tale. 



THE PARDONER'S TALE 

[C. 661-968] 

After the Physician has told his tale of the death of Virginia, the Host, ex- 
claiming upon the pity of it, calls upon the Pardoner for a " merry tale," but 
the company dissent and demand " some moral thing." The Pardoner is quite 
willing, if he may take thought a moment while he drinks and eats a cake at 
the neighboring ale-house. He then launches upon a long prologue, in which 
he unblushingly tells with witty relish how he uses his bulls and relics, and 
his arts as a preacher, playing upon the superstition of his hearers, to gain 
from them large profit, for his text is ever, so he says, Radix malorum est 
cupiditaSf " For the love of money is the root of all evil" (i Timothy vi, 10). 
In his preaching be makes use of " examples many a one of old stories long 
time agone, for ignorant folk love old tales." One of these he now proposes 
to tell, " for, though myself be a full vicious man, I can still tell you a moral 
tale, which I am wont to preach to get my gain." In Flanders, he begins, 
there was once a company of young folk that gave up their time to folly and 
all manner of sin. This leads him to moralize for a time upon the evils of 
drunkenness and gluttony, after which he takes up again the thread of his 
story of the three revellers, and how they sought for, and found, Death. 

Thise ryotoures three, of whiche I telle, 

Longe erst er pryme rong of any belle. 

Were set hem in a taverne for to drinke ; 

And as they satte, they herde a belle clinke 

Biforn a cors, was caried to his grave. 665 

That oon of hem gan callen to his knave, 

**Go bet," quod he, **and axe redily, 

What cors is this that passeth heer f orby ; 

And look that thou reporte his name wel." 

" Sir," quod this boy, **it nedeth never-a-del. 670 

It was me told, er ye cam heer, two houres. 
He was, pardee, an old felawe of youres, 
And sodeynly he was yslayn to-night, 

III 



112 CHAUCER 

For-dronke, as he sat on his bench up-right ; 

Ther cam a privee theef, men clepeth Deeth, 675 

That in this contree al the peple sleeth, 

And with his spere he smoot his herte a-two, 

And wente his wey withouten wordes mo. 

He hath a thousand slayn this pestilence : 

And, maister, er ye come in his presence, 680 

Me thinketh that it were necessarie 

For to be war of swich an adversarie. . 

Beth redy for to mete him evermore ; 

Thus taughte me my dame, I sey namore." 

" By seinte Marie,'' seyde this taverner, 685 

*' The child seith sooth, for he hath slayn this yeer, 

Henne over a myle, within a greet village, 

Both man and womman, child, and hyne, and page. 

I trowe his habitacioun be there ; 

To been avysed greet wisdom it were, 690 

Er that he dide a man a dishonour/' 

"Ye, Goddes armes," quod this ryotour, 
" Is it swich peril with him for to mete ? 
I shal him seke by wey and eek by strete, 
I make avow to Goddes digne bones ! 695 

Herkneth, felawes, we three been al ones ; 
Lat ech of us holde up his hond til other, 
And ech of us bicomen otheres brother, 
And we wol sleen this false traytour Deeth. 
He shal be slayn, which that so many sleeth, 700 

By Goddes dignitee, er it be night." 

Togidres han thise three her trouthes plight 
To live and dyen ech of hem for other. 
As though he were his owene yboren brother. 
And up they sterte, al dronken, in this rage, 705 

And forth they goon towardes that village 



THE PARDONER'S TALE 113 

Of which the taverner had spoke biforn, 

And many a grisly 00th than han they sworn, ' 

And Cristes blessed body they to-rente, 

" Deeth shal be deed, if that they may him hente." 710 

Whan they han goon nat fully half a myle. 
Right as they wolde han troden over a style. 
An old man and a poure with hem mette. 
This olde man ful mekely hem grette, 
And seyde thus, ** Now, lordes, God yow see ! " 715 

The proudest of thise ryotoures three 
Answerde agayn, ** What, carl, with sory grace, 
Why artow al for-wrapped save thy face ? 
Why livestow so longe in so greet age ? '* 

This olde man gan loke in his visage, 720 

And seyde thus, ** For I ne can nat finde 
A man, though that I walked into Inde, 
Neither in citee ne in no village, 
That wolde chaunge his youthe for myn age ; 
And therfore moot I han myn age stille, 725 

As longe tyme as it is Goddes wille. 
Ne deeth, alias ! ne wol nat han my lyf -; 
Thus walke I, lyk a restelees caityf. 
And on the ground, which is my modres gate, 
I knokke with my staf, bothe erly and late, 730 

And seye, * Leve moder, leet me in ! 
Lo, how I vanish, flesh, and blood, and skin ! 
Alias ! whan shul my bones been at reste ? 
Moder, with yow wolde I chaunge my cheste, ' 
That in my chambre longe tyme hath be, 735 

Ye ! for an heyre clout to wrappe me ! * 
But yet to me she wol nat do that grace. 
For which ful pale and welked is my face. 

" But, sirs, to yow it is no curteisye 



114 CHAUCER 

To speken to an old man vileinye, 740 

But he trespasse in worde, or elles in dede. 

In Holy Writ ye may yourself wel rede, 

* Agayns an old man, hoor upon his head. 

Ye sholde aryse ; ' wherf ore I yeve yow reed, 

Ne dooth unto an old man noon harm now, 745 

Namore than ye wolde men dide to yow 

In age, if that ye so longe abyde ; 

And God be with yow, wher ye go or ryde. 

I moot go thider as I have to go/' 

'* Nay, olde cherl, by God, thou shall nat so,'' 750 

Seyde this other hasardour anon, 
** Thou partest nat so lightly, by seint John ! 
Thou spak right now of thilke traitour Deeth, 
That in this contree alle our frendes sleeth. 
Have heer my trouthe, as thou art his espye, 755 

Tel wher he is, or thou shalt it abye. 
By God, and by the holy Sacrament ! 
For soothly thou art oon of his assent. 
To sleen us yonge folk, thou false theef ! " 

" Now, sires," quod he, "if that yow be so leef 760 

To finde Deeth, turne up this croked wey, 
For in that grove I lafte him, by my fey, 
Under a tree, and ther he wol abyde ; 
Nat for your boost he wol him nothing hyde. 
See ye that 00k ? Right ther ye shul him finde. 765 

God save yow, that boghte agayn mankinde, 
And yow amende ! " Thus seyde this olde man. 
And everich of thise ryotoures ran. 
Til he cam to that tree, and ther they founde 
Of florins fyne of golde ycoyned rounde 770 

Wel ny a seven busshels, as hem thoughte. 
Ne lenger thanne after Deeth they soughte, 



THE PARDONER'S TALE 115 

But ech of hem so glad was of that sighte, 

For that the florins been so faire and brighte, 

That doun they sette hem by this precious hord. 775 

The worste of hem he spake the firste word. 

"Brethren," quod he, "tak kepe what I seye; 

My wit is greet, thought that I bourde and pleye, 

This tresor hath fortune unto us yiven, 

In mirthe and joHtee our lyf to Uven, 780 

And lightly as it comth, so wol we spende, 

Ey ! Goddes precious dignitee ! who wende 

To-day that we sholde han so fair a grace ? 

But mighte this gold be caried fro this place 

Hoom to myn hous, or elles unto youres — 785 

For wel ye woot that al this gold is oures — 

Than were we in heigh felicitee. 

But trewely, by daye it may nat be ; 

Men wolde seyn that we were theves stronge, 

And for our owene tresor doon us honge. 790 

This tresor moste ycaried be by nighte 

As wysly and as slyly as it mighte, 

Wherfore I rede that cut among us alle 

Be drawe, and lat see wher the cut wol falle, 

And he that hath the cut with herte blythe 795 

Shal renne to the toune, and that ful swythe, 

And bringe us breed and wyn ful prively, 

And two of us shul kepen subtilly 

This tresor wel ; and if he wol nat tarie, 

Whan it is night, we wol this tresor carie 800 

By oon assent, wher as us thinketh best." 

That oon of hem the cut broughte in his fest, 

And bad hem drawe, and loke wher it wol falle ; 

And it fil on the yongeste of hem alle, 

And forth toward the toun he wente anon. 805 



ii6 CHAUCER 

And also sone as that he was gon, 

That oon of hem spak thus unto that other, 

** Thou knowest wel thou art my sworne brother, 

Thy profit wol I telle thee anon. 

Thou woost wel that our felawe is agon ; 8io 

And heere is gold, and that ful greet plentee, 

That shal departed been among us three, 

But natheles, if I can shape it so 

That it departed were among us two, 

Hadde I nat doon a freendes torn to thee ? " 815 

That othere answerde, "I noot how that may be; 
He woot how that the gold is with us tweye ; 
What shal we doon, what shal we to him seye ? '* 
" Shal it be conseil ? " seyde the firste shrewe, 
" And I shal tellen, in a wordes f ewe, 820 

What we shal doon, and bringen it wel aboute.'' 

"I graunte," quod that other, *'out of doute. 
That by my trouthe, I wol thee nat biwreye." 

"Now,'' quod the firste, **thou woost wel we be tweye, 
And two of us shul stronger be than oon. 825 

Look whan that he is set, and right anoon ♦ 
Arys, as though thou woldest with him pleye. 
And I shal ryve him thurgh the sydes tweye, 
Whyl that thou strogelest with him as in game, 
And with thy dagger look thou do the same. 830 

And thanne shal al this gold departed be. 
My dere f reend, bitwixen me and thee ; 
Thanne may we bothe our lustes al fulfiUe, 
And pleye at dees right at our owene wille." 
And thus acorded been thise shrewes tweye 835 

To sleen the thridde, as ye han herd me seye. 

This yongest, which that wente unto the toun, 
Ful ofte in herte he rolleth up and doun 



THE PARDONER'S TALE 117 

The beautee of thise florins newe and brighte. 

"O Lord! " quod he, ''if so were that I mighte 840 

Have al this tresor to myself allone, 

Ther is no man that Hveth under the trone 

Of God, that sholde Uve so mery as I ! '' 

And atte laste the feend, our enemy, 

Putte in his thought that he shold poyson beye, 845 

With which he mighte sleen his f elawes tweye ; 

For-why the feend fond him in swich lyvinge, 

That he had leve him to sorwe bringe, 

For this was outrely his fulle entente 

To sleen hem bothe, and never to repente. 850 

And forth he gooth, no lenger wolde he tarie, 

Into the toun, unto a pothecarie, 

And preyde him, that he him wolde selle 

Som poyson, that he mighte his rattes quelle, 

And eek ther was a polcat in his hawe, 855 

That, as he seyde, his capouns hadde yslawe. 

And fayn he wolde wreke him, if he mighte. 

On vermin, that destroyed him by nighte. 

The pothecarie answerde, "And thou shalt have 
A thing that, also God my soule save, 860 

In al this world ther nis no creature, 
That ete or dronke hath of this confiture 
Noght but the mountance of a corn of whete, 
That he ne shal his lyf anon forlete ; 

Ye, sterve he shal, and that in lasse whyle 865 

Than thou wolt goon a paas nat but a myle ; 
This poyson is so strong and violent.'* 

This cursed man hath in his bond yhent 
This poyson in a box, and sith he ran 
Into the nexte strete, unto a man, 87c 

And borwed him large hotels three ; 



ii8 CHAUCER 

And in the two his poyson poured he ; 

The thridde he kepte clene for his owene drinke. 

For al the night he shoop him for to swinke 

In caryinge of the gold out of that place. 875 

And whan this ryotour, with sory grace, 

Had filled with wyn his grete hotels three, 

To his felawes agayn repaireth he. 

What nedeth it to sermone of it more ? 
For right as they had cast his deeth bifore, 880 

Right so they han him slayn, and that anon. 
And whan that this was doon, thus spak that oon, 
*' Now lat us sitte and drinke, and make us merie, 
And afterward we wol his body berie.'' 
And with that word it happed him, par cas, 885 

To take the hotel ther the poyson was. 
And drank, and yaf his felawe drinke also. 
For which anon they storven bothe two. 

But, certes, I suppose that Avicen 
Wroot never in no canon, ne in no fen, 890 

Mo wonder signes of empoisoning 
Than hadde thise wrecches two, er hir eading. 
Thus ended been thise homicydes two, 
And eek the false empoysoner also. 

O cursed sinne, ful of cursednesse ! 895 

O traytours homicyde, o wikkednesse ! 
O glotonye, luxurie, and hasardrye ! 
Thou blasphemour of Crist with vileinye 
And othes grete, of usage and of pryde ! 
Alias! mankinde, how may it bityde, 900 

That to thy Creatour which that thee wroghte. 
And with his precious herte-blood thee boghte, 
Thou art so f als and so unkinde, alias ! 



THE PARDONER'S TALE 



119 



Now, goode men, God foryeve yow your trespas, 
And ware yow fro the sinne of avaryce. 905 

Myn holy pardoun may yow alle waryce, 
So that ye offre nobles or sterlinges, 
Or elles silver broches, spoones, ringes. 
Boweth your heed under this holy bulle ! 
Cometh up, ye wyves, off reth of your wolle ! 910 

Your name I entre heer in my rolle anon ; 
Into the blisse of hevene shul ye gon ; 
I yow assoile, by myn heigh power, 
Yow that wol offre, as clene and eek as cleer 
As ye were born ; and, lo, sires, thus I preche, 915 

And Jesu Crist, that is our soules leche, 
So graunte yow his pardon to receyve ; 
For that is best ; I wol yow nat decey ve. 

But sires, o word forgat I in my tale, 
I have relikes and pardon in my male, 920 

As faire as any man in Engelond, 
Whiche were me yeven by the popes bond, 
If any of yow wol, of devocioun, 
Offren, and ban myn absolucioun, 

Cometh forth anon, and kneleth heer adoun, 925 

And mekely receyveth my pardoun : 
Or elles, taketh pardon as ye wende, 
Al newe and fresh, at every myles ende, 
So that ye offren alwey newe and newe 
Nobles and pens, which that be gode and trewe. 930 

It is an honour to everich that is heer 
That ye mowe have a suffisant pardoneer 
Tassoille yow in contree as ye ryde. 
For aventures which that may bityde. 

Peraventure ther may fallen oon or two 935 

Doun of his hors, and breke his nekke atwo. 



I20 GHAUCER 

Looke which a seuretee is it to yow alle 

That I am in your felaweship yf alle, 

That may assoille yow, bothe more and lasse, 

Whan that the soule shal fro the body passe. 940 

I rede that oure Hoste heer shal biginne, 

For he is most envoluped in sinne, 

Com forth, sir Hoste, and offre first anon. 

And thou shalt kisse my reliks everichon, — 

Ye, for a grote, — unbokel anon thy purs ! 945 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 

[See the preface to the notes on this poem.] 

Book I 

" God turn every dream to our good ! " begins the poet. For some sixty 
lines he comments on the marvelous nature of dreams, and runs over the 
various causes suggested for them, though disclaiming any intention of treat- 
ing the subject adequately — which, he says, may better be left for others who 
know more about it. His purpose is to tell of a wonderful dream which came 
to him on the tenth of December. A formal invocation follows addressed to 
the god of sleep, in the course of which he calls down appropriate blessings 
and curses upon those who listen to his dream in proper spirit and those who 
judge it amiss. 

In his dream, he says, he found himself in a temple made of glass, adorned 
with the utmost skill. Upon the wall, among other things, he saw depicted 
the story of ^neas of Troy. This story he tells in brief, recounting the ad- 
ventures of the hero until his arrival in Italy and marriage with Lavinia, and 
pausing, in speaking of Dido, to enumerate other heroes who, like ^neas, 
were faithless in love. This story forms the greater part of the first book. 
At its close, the poet tells how he went out of the temple to find some one 
who may tell him in what country he may be. Here the adventures, which 
are the chief theme of the poem, begin : 

When I out at the dores cam, 480 

I faste aboute me beheld. 

Then saw I but a large feld, 

As fer as ever I mighte see, 

Withouten toun, or hous, or tree, 

Or bush, or gras, or ered lond ; 485 

For al the feld nas but of sond 

As smal as man may see yet lye 

In the desert of Libye ; 

Ne I no maner creature, 

That is yformed by nature, 490 

121 



122 CHAUCER 

Ne saw, me [for] to rede or wisse. 

'' O Crist," thoughte I, " that art in blisse, 

Fro fantom and illusioun 

Me save ! " and with devocioun 

Myn yen to the heven I caste. 495 

Tho was I war, lo ! at the laste, 
That faste by the sonne, as hye 
As kenne mighte I with myn ye, 
Me thoughte I saw an egle sore, 

But that hit semed moche more 500 

Then I had any egle seyn. 
But this as sooth as deeth, certeyn, 
Hit was of goide, and shoon so brighte, 
That never saw men such a sighte, 

But if the heven hadde ywonne 505 

Al newe of golde another sonne ; 
So shoon the egles fethres brighte. 
And somwhat dounward gan hit lighte. 

Explicit liber primus, 

c 

Book II 

Incipit liber secundus. 

Proem 

Now herkneth, every maner man 
That EngHsh understonde can, 510 

And listeth of my dreem to lere ; 
For now at erste shul ye here 
So selly an avisioun. 
That Isaye, ne Scipioun, 

Ne king Nabugodonosor, 515 

Pharo, Turnus, ne Eleanor, 
Ne mette swich a dreem as this ! 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 123 

Now faire blisful, O Cipris, 

So be my favour at this tyme ! 

And ye, me to endyte and ryme 520 

Helpeth, that on Parnaso dwelle 

By Elicon the clere dwelle. 

O Thought, that wroot al that I mette, 
And in the tresorie hit shette 

Of my brayn, now shal men see 525 

If any vertu in thee be. 
To tellen al my dreem aright ; 
Now kythe thyn engyn and might ! 

The Dream 

This egle, of which I have yow told, 
That shoon with fethres alle of gold, 530 

Which that so hye gan to sore, 
I gan beholde more and more. 
To see hir beautee and the wonder; 
But never was ther dint of thonder, 

Ne that thing that men calle foudre, 535 

That smyteth sone a tour to poudre. 
And in his swifte coming brende. 
That so swythe gan descende. 
As this foul, whan hit behelde 

That I a-roume was in the f elde ; 540 

And with his grimme pawes stronge, 
Within his sharpe nayles longe. 
Me, fleinge, at a swappe he hente. 
And with his sours agayn up wente, 

Me caryinge in his clawes starke 545 

As lightly as I were a larke, 
How high, I can not telle yow. 
For I cam up, I niste how. 



124 CHAUCER 

For so astonied and a-sweved 

Was every vertu in my heved, 550 

What with his sours and with my drede. 

That al my f eling gan to dede ; 

For-why hit was to greet affray. 

Thus I longe in his clawes lay, 
Til at the laste he to me spak 555 

In mannes vols, and seyde, " Awak ! 
And be not so a-gast, for shame ! " 
And called me tho by my name. 
And, for I sholde the bet abreyde. 

Me mette "Awak," to me he seyde, 560 

Right in the same vols and stevene 
That useth oon I coude nevene; 
And with that vois, soth for to sayn, 
My minde cam to me agayn ; 

For hif was goodly seyd to me, 565 

So nas hit never wont to be. 

And herwithal I gan to store, 
And he me in his feet to here. 
Til that he felte that I had hete. 

And felte eek tho myn herte bete. 570 

And tho gan he me to disporte, 
And with wordes to comforte, 
And sayde twyes, " Seynte Marie ! 
Thou art noyous for to carie, 

And nothing nedeth hit, pardee ! 575 

For also wis God helpe me 
As thou non harm shalt have of this, 
And this cas, that betid thee is. 
Is for thy lore and for thy prow. 

Let see ! darst thou yet loke now ? 580 

Be ful assured, boldely. 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 125 

I am thy frend/' And therwith I, 

Gan for to wondren in my minde. 

"O God/' thoughte I, "that madest kinde, 

Shal I non other weyes dye ? 585 

Wher Joves wol me steUifye, 

Or what thing may this signifye ? 

I neither am Enok, ne Elye, 

Ne Romulus, ne Ganymede 

That was ybore up, as men rede, 590 

To hevene with dan Jupiter, 

And maad the goddes boteler/' 

Lo ! this was tho my f antasye ! 
But he that bar me gan espye 

That I so thoghte, and seyde this, 595 

"Thou demest of thyself amis ; 
For Joves is not ther-aboute — 
I dar wel putte thee out of doute — 
To make of thee as yet a sterre. 

But er I here thee moche ferre, 600 

I wol thee telle what I am, 
And whider thou shalt, and why I cam 
To done this, so that thou take 
Good herte, and not for fere quake/' 

" Gladly,'' quod I. " Now wel," quod he : — 605 

" First I, that in my feet have thee. 
Of which thou hast a feer and wonder, 
Am dwelHng with the god of thonder, 
Which that men callen Jupiter, 

That dooth me flee ful ofte fer ' 610 

To do al his comaundement. 
And for this cause he hath me sent 
To thee. Now herke, by thy trouthe ! 
Certeyn, he hath of thee routhe. 



126 CHAUCER 

That thou so longe trewely 615 

Hast served so ententifly 

His blinde nevew Cupido, 

And fair Venus [goddesse] also, 

Withoute guerdoun ever yit, 

And nevertheles hast set thy wit 620 

(Although that in thy hede ful lyte is) 

To make bokes, songes, dytees, 

In ryme, or elles in cadence, 

As thou best canst, in reverence 

Of Love, and of his servants eke, 625 

That have his servise soght, and seke ; 

And peynest thee to preyse his art, 

Althogh thou haddest never part; 

Wherfor, also God me blesse, 

Joves halt hit greet humblesse 630 

And vertu eek, that thou wolt make 

A-night ful ofte thyn heed to ake, 

In thy studie so thou wrytest. 

And evermo of love endytest. 

In honour of him and preysinges, 635 

And in his folkes furtheringes. 

And in hir matere al devysest. 

And noght him nor his folk despysest. 

Although thou mayst go in the daunce 

Of hem that him list not avaunce. 640 

** Wherfor, as I seyde, ywis, 
Jupiter considereth this. 
And also, beau sir, other thinges ; 
That is, that thou hast no tydinges 

Of Loves folk, if they be glade, 645 

Ne of noght elles that God made ; 
And noght only fro f er contree 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 127 

That ther no tyding comth to thee, 

But of thy verray neyghebores, 

That dwellen almost at thy dores, 650 

Thou herest neither that ne this ; 

For whan thy labour doon all is. 

And hast ymaad thy rekeninges, 

In stede of reste and newe thinges, 

Thou gost hoom to thy hous anoon ; 655 

And, also domb as any stoon, 

Thou sittest at another boke. 

Til fully daswed is thy loke. 

And livest thus as an heremyte, 

Although thyn abstinence is lyte. 660 

'' And therfor Joves, through his grace, 
Wol that I here thee to a place, 
Which that hight the Hous of Fame, 
To do thee som disport and game, 

In som recompensacioun 665 

Of labour and devocioun 
That thou hast had, lo ! causeles, 
To Cupido, the reccheles ! 
And thus this god, thorgh his meryte, 
Wol with som maner thing thee quyte, 670 

So that thou wolt be of good chere. 
For truste wel, that thou shalt here, 
When we be comen ther I seye. 
Mo wonder thinges, dar I leye. 

Of Loves f olke mo tydinges, 675 

Bothe soth sawes and lesinges ; 
And mo loves newe begonne. 
And longe yserved loves wonne, 
And mo loves casuelly 
That been betid, no man wot why, 680 



128 CHAUCER 

But * as a blind man stert an hare ; ' 

And more jolytee and fare, 

Whyl that they finden love of stele, 

As thinketh hem, and over-al wele ; 

Mo discords, and mo jelousyes, 685 

Mo murmurs, and mo novelryes, 

And mo dissimulaciouns, 

And f eyned reparaciouns ;. 

And mo berdes in two houres 

Withoute rasour or sisoures 690 

Ymaad, then greynes be of sondes ; 

And eke mo holdinge in hondes, 

And also mo renovelaunces 

Of olde f or-leten aqueyntaunces ; 

Mo love-dayes and acordes 695 

Then on instruments been cordes ; 

And eke of loves mo eschaunges 

Than ever cornes were in graunges ; 

Unethe maistow trowen this ? '' 

Quod he. " No, helpe me God so wis ! " 700 

Quod I. " No ? why ? '' quod he. " For hit 

Were impossible, to my wit. 

Though that Fame hadde al the pyes 

In al a realme, and al the spyes, 

How that yet she shulde here al this, 705 

Or they espye hit." **0 yis, yis ! '' 

Quod he to me, " that can I preve 

By resoun, worthy for to leve. 

So that thou yeve thyn advertence 

To understonde my sentence. 710 

" First shalt thou heren wher she dwelleth, 
And so thyn owne book hit telleth ; 
Hir paleys stant, as I shal seye. 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 129 

Right even in middes of the weye 

Betwixen hevene, erthe, and see ; 715 

That, whatsoever in al these three 

Is spoken, in privee or aperte. 

The wey therto is so overte, 

And stant eek in so juste a place, 

That every soun mot to hit pace, 720 

Or what so comth fro any tonge. 

Be hit rouned, red, or songe, 

Or spoke in seurtee or drede, 

Certein, hit moste thider nede. 

" Now herkne wel ; for-why I wille 725 

Tellen thee a propre skile. 
And a worthy demon stracioun 
In myn imagynacioun. 

** Geffrey, thou wost right wel this, 
That every kindly thing that is, 730 

Hath a kindly stede ther he 
May best in hit conserved be ; 
Unto which place every thing. 
Through his kindly enclyning, 

Moveth for to comen to, 735 

Whan that hit is awey therfro ; 
As thus, lo, thou mayst al day see 
That any thing that hevy be. 
As stoon or leed, or thing of wighte. 

And ber hit never so hye on highte, 740 

Lat go thyn hand, hit falleth doun. 

" Right so seye I by fyre or soun. 
Or smoke, or other thinges Hghte, 
Alwey they seke upward on highte ; 

Whyl ech of hem is at his large, 745 

Light thing up, and dounward charge. 



130 CHAUCER 

** And for this cause mayst thou see, 
That every river to the see 
Enclyned is to go, by kinde. 

And by these skilles, as I finde, 750 

Hath fish dweUinge in floode and see, 
And trees eek in erthe be. 
Thus every thing, by this resoun, 
Hath his propre mansioun, 

To which hit seketh to repaire, 755 

As ther hit shulde not apaire. 
Lo, this sentence is knowen couthe 
Of every philosophres mouthe, 
As Aristotle and dan Platon, 

And other clerkes many oon ; 760 

And to confirme my resoun, 
Thou wost wel this, that speche is soun. 
Or elles no man mighte hit here ; 
Now herke what I wol thee lere. 

" Soun is noght but air ybroken, 765 

And every speche that is spoken, 
Loud or privee, foul or fair, 
In his substaunce is but air ; 
For as flaumbe is but lighted smoke. 

Right so soun is air ybroke. 770 

But this may be in many wyse, 
Of which I wil thee two devyse, 
As soun that comth of pype or harpe. 
For whan a pype is blowen sharpe. 

The air is twist with violence, 775 

And rent ; lo, this is my sentence ; 
Eek, whan men harpe-stringes smyte, 
Whether hit be moche or lyte, 
Lo, with the strook the air to-breketh ; 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 131 

Right so hit breketh whan men speketh. 780 

Thus wost thou wel what thing is speche. 

" Now hennesforth I wol thee teche, 
How every speche or noise, or soun, 
Through his multiplicacioun, 

Thogh hit were pyped of a mouse, 785 

Moot nede come to Fames House. 
I preve hit thus — tak hede now — • 

By experience ; for if that thou 
Throwe on water now a stoon, 

Wel wost thou, hit wol make anoon 790 

A litel roundel as a cercle, 
Paraventure brood as a covercle ; 
And right anoon thou shalt see weel, 
That wheel wol cause another wheel, 

And that the thridde, and so forth, brother, 795 

Every cercle causing other, 
Wyder than himselve was ; 
And thus, fro roundel to compas, 
Ech aboute other goinge. 

Caused of otheres steringe, 800 

And multiplying ever-mo, 
Til that hit be so fer ygo 
That hit at bothe brinkes be. 
Al-thogh thou mowe hit not ysee 

Above, hit goth yet alway under, 805 

Although thou thenke hit a gret wonder. 
And whoso seith of trouthe Lvarie, 
Bid him proven the contrarie. 
And right thus every word, ywis, 

That loude or privee spoken is, 810 

Moveth first an air aboute, 
And of this moving, out of doute, 



132 CHAUCER 

Another air anoon is meved, 

As I have of the water preved, 

That every cercle causeth other. 815 

Right so of air, my leve brother ; 

Everich air in other stereth 

More and more, and speche up bereth, 

Or vois, or noise, or word, or soun, 

Ay through multiplicacioun, 820 < 

Til hit be atte House of Fame — 

Tak hit in ernest or in game. 

" Now have I told, if thou have minde, 
How speche or soun, of pure kinde, 

Enclyned is upward to meve ; 825 

This, mayst thou fele, wel I preve. 
And that the mansioun, ywis. 
That everything enclyned to is. 
Hath his kindeliche stede : 

That sheweth hit, withouten drede, 830 

That kindely the mansioun 
Of every speche, of every soun, 
Be hit either foul or fair. 
Hath his kinde place in air. 

And sin that everything, that is 835 

Out of his kinde place, ywis, 
Moveth thider for to go 
If hit a-weye be therfro, 
As I before have preved thee, 

Hit seweth, every soun, pardee, 840 

Moveth kindely to pace 
Al up into his kindely place. 
And this place of which I telle, 
Ther as Fame Ust to dwelle. 
Is set amiddes of these three, 845 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 



133 



Heven, erthe, and eek the see, 

As most conservatif the soun. 

Than is this the conclusioun, 

That every speche of every man 

As I thee telle first began, 850 

Moveth up on high to pace 

Kindely to Fames place. 

" Telle me this f eithf ully, 
Have I not preved thus simply, 

Withouten any subtiltee 855 

Of speche, or gret prolixitee 
Of termes of philosophye. 
Of figures of poetrye. 
Or colours of rethoryke ? 

Pardee, hit oghte thee to lyke ; 860 

For hard langage and hard matere 
Is encombrous for to here 
At ones ; w^ost thou not wel this ? *' 
And I answerde, and seyde, " Yis/' 

"A ha! '' quod he, '*lo, so I can 865 

Lewedly to a lewed man 
Speke, and shewe him swiche skiles. 
That he may shake hem by the biles, 
So palpable they shulden be. 

But tel me this, now pray I thee, 870 

How thinketh thee my conclusioun ?*' 
[Quod he]. ** A good persuasioun,'* 
Quod I, ** hit is ; and lyk to be 
Right so as thou hast preved me.'* 

" By God," quod he, " and as I leve, 875 

Thou shalt have yit, or hit be eve, 
Of every word of this sentence 
A preve, by experience ; 



134 CHAUCER 

And with thyn eres heren wel 

Top and tail, and everydel, 880 

That every word that spoken is 

Comth into Fames Hous, ywis, 

As I have seyd ; what wilt thou more ? *' 

And with this word upper to sore 

He gan, and seyde, *^ By Seynt Jame ! 885 

Now wil we speken al of game. 

" How farest thou ? " quod he to me. 
" Wel/' quod I. '' Now see/' quod he, 
** By thy trouthe, yond adoun, 

Wher that thou knowest any toun, 890 

Or hous, or any other thing. 
And whan thou hast of ought knowing, 
Loke that thou warne me. 
And I anoon shal telle thee 
How fer that thou art now therfro/* 895 

And I adoun gan loken tho. 
And beheld feldes and plaines. 
And now hilles, and now mountaines, 
Now valeys, and now f orestes. 

And now, unethes, grete bestes ; 900 

Now riveres, now citees. 
Now tounes, and now grete trees. 
Now shippes sailinge in the see. 

But thus sone in a whyle he 
Was flowen fro the grounde so hye, 905 

That al the world, as to myn ye. 
No more semed than a prikke ; 
Or elles was the air so thikke 
That I ne mighte not discerne. 

With that he spak to me as yerne, 910 

And seyde, '' Seestow any toun 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 135 

Or ought thou knowest yonder doun ? '* 

I seyde, '* Nay." '' No wonder nis," 
Quod he, ** for half so high as this 

Nas Alexander Macedo, 915 

Ne the king, dan Scipio, 
That saw in dreme, at point devys, 
Helle and erthe, and paradys ; 
No eek the wrecche Dedalus, 

Ne his child, nyce Icarus, 920 

That fleigh so highe that the hete 
His winges malt, and he fel wete 
In-mid the see, and ther he dreynte. 
For whom was maked moch compleynte. 

" Now turn upward," quod he, **thy face, 925 

And behold this large place. 
This air ; but loke thou ne be 
Adrad of hem that thou shalt see ; 
For in this regioun, certain, 

Dwelleth many a citezein, 930 

Of which that speketh dan Plato. 
These ben the eyrish bestes, lo ! *' 
And so saw I al that meynee 
Bothe goon and also flee. 

** Now," quod he tho, ** cast up thyn ye ; 935 

See yonder, lo, the Galaxye, 
Which men clepeth the Milky Wey, 
For hit is whyt, and somme, parfey, 
Callen hit Watlinge Strete, 

That ones was ybrent with hete, 940 

Whan the sonnes sone, the rede, 
That highte Pheton, wolde lede 
Algate his fader cart, and gye. 
The cart-hors gonne wel espye 



136 CHAUCER 

That he coude no governaunce, 945 

And gonne for to lepe and launce, 

And beren him now up, now doun, 

Til that he saw the Scorpioun, 

Which that in heven a signe is yit. 

And he, for ferde, loste his wit, 950 

Of that, and leet the reynes goon 

Of his hors ; and they anoon 

Gonne up to mounte, and doun descende 

Til bothe eyr and erthe brende ; 

Til Jupiter, lo, atte laste, 955 

Him slow, and fro the carte caste. 

Lo, is it not a greet mischaunce, 

To lete a fole han governaunce 

Of thing that he can not demeine ! '' 

And with this word, soth for to seyne, 960 

He gan alway upper to sore. 
And gladded me ay more and more, 
So feithfully to me spak he. 

Tho gan I loken under me, 
And beheld the eyrish bestes, 965 

Cloudes, mistes, and tempestes, 
Snowes, hailes, reines, windes. 
And thengendring in hir kindes. 
And al the wey through whiche I cam ; 
'' O God," quod I, *'that made Adam, 970 

Moche is thy might and thy noblesse ! '* 

And tho thoughte I upon Boece, 
That writ, ''a thought may flee so hye, 
With fetheres of Philosophye, 

To passen everich element ; 975 

And whan he hath so fer y-went, 
Than may be seen, behind his bak, 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 137 

Cloud, and al that I of spak/' 

Tho gan I wexen in a were, 
And seyde, " I woot wel I am here ; 980 

But wher in body or in gost 
I noot, ywis; but God, thou wost!'* 
For more cleer entendement 
Nadde he me never yit ysent. 

And than thoughte I on Marcian, 985 

And eek on Anteclaudian, 
That sooth was hir descripcioun 
Of al the hevenes regioun, 
As fer as that I saw the preve ; 
Therfor I can hem now beleve. 990 

With that this egle gan to crye : 
'' Lat be," quod he, "thy fantasye; 
Wilt thou lere of sterres aught ? " 
"Nay, certeinly,'' quod I, "right naught.'* 
" And why ? " " For I am now to old." 995 

" Files wolde I thee have told," 
Quod he, " the sterres names, lo. 
And al the hevenes signes to. 
And which they been." " No fors," quod I. 
" Yis, pardee," quod he, "wostow why.? 1000 

For whan thou redest poetrye. 
How goddes gonne stellifye 
Brid, fish, beste, or him or here, 
As the Raven, or either Bere, 

Or Ariones harpe fyn, 1005 

Castor, Pollux, or Delphyn, 
Or Athalantes doughtres sevene. 

How alle these arn set in hevene ; * 

For though thou have hem ofte on honde. 
Yet nostow not wher that they stonde." loio 



138 CHAUCER 

** No fors/' quod I, ** hit is no nede. 

I leve as wel, so God me spede, 

Hem that wryte of this matere, 

As though I knew hir places here ; 

And eek they shynen here so brighte, 1015 

Hit shulde shenden al my sighte, 

To loke on hem." *^ That may wel be," 

Quod he. And so forth bar he me 

A whyl, and than he gan to crye, 

That never herde I thing so hye, 1020 

" Now up the heed, for al is wel. 

Seynt Julyan, lo, bon hostel ! 

See here the House of Fame, lo ! 

Maistow not heren that I do .? " 

'' What ? " quod I. " The grete soun,'' 1025 

Quod he, ** that rumbleth up and doun 

In Fames Hous, ful of tydinges, 

Bothe of fair speche and chydinges, 

And of fals and soth compouned. 

Herkne wel ; hit is not rouned. 1030 

Herestow not the grete swogh ?'* 

" Yis, pardee," quod I, "wel y-nogh." 

" And what soun is it lyk ? " quod he. 

" Peter ! lyk beting of the see," 

Quod I, '' again the roches holowe, 1035 

Whan tempest doth the shippes swalowe ; 

And lat a man stonde, out of doute, 

A myle thens, and here hit route ; 

Or elles lyk the last humblinge 

After the clappe of a thundringe, 1040 

When Joves hath the air ybete; « 

But hit doth me for fere swete." 

" Nay, dred thee not therof," quod he, 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 139 

** Hit is nothing wil beten thee ; 

Thou shalt non harm have, trewely." 1045 

And with this word bothe he and I 
As nigh the place arryved were 
As men may casten with a spere. 
I niste how, but in a strete 

He sette me faire on my fete, 1050 

And seyde, " Walke forth a pas, 
And tak thyn aventure or cas. 
That thou shalt finde in Fames place." 

'' Now," quod I, '* whyl we han space 
To speke, or that I go fro thee, 1055 

For the love of God tell me. 
In sooth, that wil I of thee lere. 
If this noise that I here 
Be, as I have herd thee tellen, 

Of folk that doun in erthe dwellen, 1060 

And comth here in the same wyse 
As I thee herde or this devyse; 
And that ther lyves body nis 
In al that hous that yonder is. 

That maketh al this loude fare ?** 1065 

'*No," quod he, '*by Seynte Clare! 
And, also wis God rede me. 
But o thinge I wil warne thee 
Of the which thou wolt have wonder. 

Lo, to the House of Fame yonder 1070 

Thou wost now how cometh every speche, 
Hit nedeth noght eft thee to teche. 
But understond now right wel this ; 
Whan any speche yeomen is 

Up to the paleys, anon-right 1075 

Hit wexeth lyk the same wight 



I40 CHAUCER 

Which that the word in erthe spak, 

Be hit clothed reed or blak ; 

And hath so verray his lyknesse 

That spak the word, that thou wilt gesse 1080 

That hit the same body be, 

Man or woman, he or she. 

And is not this a wonder thing ? '' 

" Yis,*' quod I tho, '' by hevene king ! '* 

And with this worde, **Farwel," quod he, 1085 

" And here I wol abyden thee ; 

And God of hevene sende thee grace, 

Som good to lernen in this place/* 

And I o4 him took leve anoon. 

And gan forth to the paleys goon. 1090 

Explicit liber secundus. 
Book III 

The invocation prefixed to this book is to the " god of knowledge and of 
light," Apollo. The poet then describes how he approached the House of 
Fame, and found the high hill, upon which it stood, not of glass, as he at first 
thought, but of ice. On the side of the hill were engraved the names of fa- 
mous folk, but of these he could hardly read more than a few letters, so much 
had they melted away in the sun, even as their fame had melted away on 
earth. On the other, or northward, side of the hill, however, in the shade, 
the names were as fresh and clear as the day they were written. 

The House of Fame was of exceeding beauty, made, despite its elaborate 
architecture, of beryl, all of one piece. In niches upon its pinnacles were 
many minstrels and tellers of tales, on whom the fame of men depends, the 
greater above, the lesser below, imitating the greater singers above them. 
Also, apart from these, there was a multitude of musicians, and yet again of 
jugglers, magicians, witches, astrologers, and alchemists. 

Entering the palace, the poet met heralds, crying for largess from those 
who would have fame. He entered the huge hall, every part of which was 
plated half a foot thick with gold, and saw sitting on a throne made of a 
single ruby or carbuncle, the Lady Fame. She was strange to see, for at 
first he thought her only a cubit long, and then in a moment she was so great 



THE HOUSE OF FAME 141. 

that, with her feet on the earth, her head touched heaven; her eyes were as 
many as there are feathers on birds; her hair was like burned gold, wavy and 
curled; she had as many ears and tongues as there are hairs on beasts, and 
on her feet grew wings. About her sounded ever heavenly melody in her 
praise. On her shoulders she bore all those that have large fame, such as 
Alexander and Hercules. On either side of the hall, ranged from the dais to 
the door, the greater historians and poets stood, upon pillars made of metals 
appropriate to their themes — Josephus upon a pillar of lead and iron; Statins 
upon an iron pillar painted with tiger's blood; Homer on a pillar of iron, the 
metal of Mars; Virgil on a pillar of tinned iron; Ovid, Venus' clerk, upon a 
pillar of copper; Claudian, that sang of hell, upon a pillar of sulphur; and 
with these many others. 

Then the poet heard a noise hke bees when they swarm, and saw a multi- 
tude of people of every kind and condition prostrating themselves before 
Lady Fame, and begging her to grant them her gift of renown throughout the 
world. To one she would give it; to another, refuse it; to some who asked 
good fame, she gave neither good or evil fame — following no law or reason 
in granting or refusing, and now bidding her herald, Eolus, to blow his 
trumpet of Clear Praise, now his foul trumpet of Slander, as her idle whim at 
the moment dictated. 

As the poet watched company after company approach and receive their 
dismissal with their petitions granted or refused, a man who stood behind 
him asked if he had come in search of fame. He replied that he had not, 
that he had been brought hither to hear tidings of love and other new and 
pleasant things. Thereupon the man took him without the palace to a valley 
near by, where he saw a house sixty miles long, made of woven twigs, that 
spun about on its center continually with a swift motion. What with the 
humming as it turned, and what with other noises, the house was full of 
sounds, for, being made of wickervvork, it was full of holes that permitted 
every sort of rumor and tidings uttered on earth to pass into it, or from within 
to pass out. Into it passed rumors with regard to every conceivable thing — 
rumors of war, peace, death, life, love, hate, agreement, strife, health, sickness, 
fair winds, tempests, plenty, famine, fire, accident. As the poet pondered 
this marvel, he saw his eagle perched upon a stone, and besought that he 
might be permitted to enter. The eagle gave consent, and bore him into the 
whirling house through a window, for that, it seemed, had been Jove's com- 
mand. W^ithin, the poet saw a numberless throng of people, each whispering 
continually or telling openly to his neighbor some new report or gossip, which 
was no sooner uttered than it was passed on immediately to another, and so 
ever increased more and more. And when a report had thus grown far be- 
yond what it was when it started, it would seek an opening and pass out. 



142 CHAUCER 

Sometimes a lying and a true rumor would try to get out by the same opening, 
and, after struggling with each other, would agree to pass out together, and 
so would fly off, false and true commingled. When the rumors had passed 
out, they went to Lady Fame, and she gave them each their name and the 
length of time they should last on earth. 

Throughout this multitude the poet went, listening to all manner of tidings, 
true and false, as they were bruited about and increased in the telling. Of a 
sudden, he heard a great noise in the corner of the hall where men told tid- 
ings of love. Every one hastened hither, and there the poet saw a man whom, 
he says, he cannot name, 

" But he seemed for to be 
A man of great authority ..." 

With these words the poem comes to an end, unfinished. 



A TRETIS OF THE ASTROLABIE 
Prologus 

LiTELL Lowis, my sone, I have perceived wel by certeyne 
evidences thyn abilite to lerne sciencez touchinge noum- 
bres and proporciouns, and as wel considere I thy bisy 
preyere in special to lerne the Tretis of the Astrolabie. 
Than, for-as-mechel as a philosofre seith,^ *' He wrappeth 
him in his frend, that condescendeth to the rightful preyers 
of his frend," therfor have I geven thee a suffisaunt^ astro- 
labie as for oure orizonte, compowned after the latitude of 
Oxenford, upon which, by mediacion of this litel tretis, I 
purpose to teche thee a certein nombre of conclusions 
apertening to the same instrument. I seye a certein 
of conclusiouns for three causes. The furste cause is this 
— truste wel that alle the conclusiouns that han ben founde, 
or elles possibly mighten be founde, in so noble an instru- 
ment as an astrolabie, ben unknowe perfitly to any mortal 
man in this regioun, as I suppose. Another cause is this, 
that sothly, in any tretis of the astrolabie that I have seyn, 
there ben some conclusions that wole nat in alle thinges 
performen hir behestes; and some of hem ben to harde to 
thy tendre age of ten yeer to conseyve. This tretis, divided 
in fyve parties,^ wole I shewe thee under ful lighte rewles 
and naked wordes in English, for Latin ne canstow yit but 
smal, my lyte sone. But, natheles, suffyse to thee thise 
trewe conclusiouns in English, as wel as suffyseth to thise 
noble clerkes Grekes thise same conclusiouns in Greek, and 
to Arabiens in Arabik, and to Jewes in Ebrew, and to the 
Latin folk in Latin ; whiche Latin folk han hem f urst out 
of othre diverse langages, and writen in hir owne tonge, 
that is to sein, in Latin. And God wot that in alle thise 

M3 



144 



CHAUCER 



langages, and in many mo, han thise conclusiouns ben suf- 
fisantly lerned and taught, and yit by diverse rewles, right 
as diverse pathes leden diverse folk the righte wey to 
Rome. Now wol I prey meekly every discret persone 
that redeth or hereth this litel tresis, to have my rewde 
endyting for excused, and my superfluite of wordes, for 
two causes. The firste cause is for that curious endyting and 
hard sentence is ful hevy atones for swich a child to lerne. 
And the second cause is this, that sothly me semeth betre 
to wryten unto a child twyes a good sentence than he for 
gete it ones. And, Lowis, yif so be that I shewe thee in my 
lighte English as trewe conclusiouns touching this matere, 
and naught only as trewe, but as many, and as subtil, con- 
clusiouns, as ben shewed in Latin in any commune tretis of 
the astrolabie, con me the more thank, and preye God save 
the King, that is lord of this langage, and alle that him 
feyth bereth and obeyeth, everech in his degree, the more 
and the lasse. But considere wel that I ne usurpe nat 
to have f ounde this werk of my labour or of myn engin. 
I nam but a lewd campilatour of the labour of olde astro- 
logiens, and have hit translated in myn English only for 
thy doctrine; and with this swerd shal I sleen envye. 

CHAUCER^S WORDS UNTO ADAM HIS OWEN 

SCRYVEYNE 

Adam Scriveyn, if ever it thee bifalle 

Boece or Troy his for to wryten newe, 

Under thy long lokkes thowe most have the scalle, 

But after my making thowe wryte more trewe, 

So ofte a daye I mot thy werk renewe, 

Hit to corecte, and eke to rubbe and scrape ; 

And al is through thy necgligence and rape. 



TO ROSEMOUNDE: A BALADE 

Madame, ye ben of al beaute shryne, 

As far as cercled is the mappemounde, 
For as the cristal glorious ye shyne, 

And lyke ruby ben your chekes rounde. 

Therwith ye ben so mery and so jocounde, 5 

That at a revel, whan that I see you daunce, 
It is an oynement unto my wounde, 
Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce. 

For thogh I wepe of teres ful a tyne, 

Yet may that wo myn herte nat confounde. 10 

Your seemly voys that ye so smal out-twyne 
Maketh my thoghtin joye and blis habounde. 
So curteisly I go, with love bounde, 

That to myself I sey, in my penaunce, 
Suffyseth me to love you, Rosemounde, 15 

Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce. 

Nas never pyk walwed in galauntyne. 

As I in love am wah^ed and ywounde. 
For which ful ofte I of myself divyne 

That I am trewe Tristam the secounde. 20 

My love may not refreyd be nor a-founde ; 

I brenne ay in an amorous plesaunce. 
Do what you list, I wil your thral be founde 
Thogh ye to me ne do no daliaunce. 



145 



THE COMPLEINT OF CHAUCER TO HIS 
EMPTY PURSE 

To you, my purse, and to non other wight 

Compleyne I, for ye be my lady dere ! 
I am so sory, now that ye be light; 

For, certes, but ye make me hevy chere, 
Me were as leef be leyd upon my here ; 5 

For whiche unto your mercy thus I crye, 
Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye ! 

Now voucheth sauf this day, or hit be night, 

That I of you the blisful soun may here. 
Or see your colour lyk the sonne bright, 10 

That of yellownesse hadde never pere. 
Ye be my lyf, ye be myn hertes stere, 

Quene of comfort, and of good companye ; 
Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye ! 

Now, purs, that be to me my lyves light, 15 

And saveour, as doun in this worlde here. 
Out of this toune help me through your might. 
Sin that ye wole nat been my tresorere, 
For I am shave as nye as any frere. 

But yit I pray unto your curtesye, 20 

Beth hevy ageyn, or elles mot I dye. 

Lenvoy de Chaucer 

O conquerour of Brutes Albioun ! 
Which that, by lyne and free eleccioun, 
Ben verray king, this song to you I sende ; 
And ye, that mowen al myn harm amende. 
Have minde upon my supplicacioun ! 

146 




TRUTH 
Balade de Bon Conseyl 

Flee fro the prees, and dwelle with sothfastnesse, 

Suffyce unto thy good, though hit be smal; 
For hord hath hate, and cHmbing tikelnesse, 
Prees hath envye, and wele blent overal ; 
Savour no more than thee bihove shal ; 5 

Werk wel thyself, that other folk canst rede ; 
And trouthe shall delivere, hit is no drede. 

Tempest thee noght al croked to redresse, 

In trust of hir that turneth as a bal ; 
Gret reste stant in litel besinesse ; lo 

Beth war therfore to sporne ageyn an al ; 
Stryve noght, as doth the crokke with the wal ; 
Daunte thyself, that dauntest otheres dede; 
And trouthe shal delivere, hit is no drede. 



That thee is sent, receyve in buxumnesse; 15 

The wrastling for this worlde axeth a fal. 
Her nis non hoom, her nis but wildernesse. 

Forth, pilgrim, forth ! Forth beste, out of thy stal ! 
Know thy contree ; look up, thank God of al ; 

Hold the hye wey, and lat thy gost thee lede ; 20 

And trouthe shal delivere, hit is no drede. 

147 



148 CHAUCER 



Envoy 



Therfore, thou vache, leve thyn old wrecchednesse 

Unto the worlde ; leve now to be thral ; 
Crye him mercy that of his hy goodnesse 

Made thee of noght, and in especial 25 

Draw unto him, and pray in general 

For thee, and eek for other, hevenlich mede; 
And trouthe shal delivere, hit is no drede. 

Explicit Le bon coimseill de G. Chaucer, 



NOTES 

The Prologue to the Canterbury Tales 
[A. 1-858] 

[In these Notes, as already said in the Preface to this volume, the aim has 
been to confine comment to what is essential and broadly illustrative, and to 
keep away from what is narrowly curious or erudite. The student must bear 
this in mind when, for example, he finds books referred to which are unfa- 
miliar, and knowledge of which, in themselves, may be, either now or at any 
time, of little value to him. It is of no consequence that he should remember 
that Chaucer drew a particular passage from this or that book, unless the fact 
should interest him for some special reason; the important thing is for him 
to gain an impression of the scope of Chaucer's reading and his use of author- 
ities. Likewise, comments upon the forms of words and upon grammatical 
points are admitted only when broadly useful ; see, for an example, the first 
note below. 

Cross references to the Canterbury Tales are by group and line (see the 
Introduction, p. xxix ff.), to the House of Fame, under the abbreviation HF. 

For general comment upon the Prologue, see the Introduction, pp. vii-ix.] 

I. soote. Students of alert mind notice that Chaucer, in 11. i, 5, uses two 
forms for sweet, soote and swete, and wonder why. Soote is a variant, due to 
the adverb (O.K. swot) oi sivete (O.K. swete). Both were in use in Chaucer's 
time ; he here uses soote for the rime. Similar double forms find explanation 
when the history of the word in question is examined. 

6. holt and heeth. As we might say " wood and pasture." 

7. yonge sonne. "Young" because beginning a new course after the 
spring equinox. 

8. halfe cours. In April the sun goes through the latter half, approxi- 
mately, of the sign of the Ram (begun in March) and the first half of the 
sign of the Bull. His " half course " in the Ram was completed. 

Chaucer was fond of astronomical allusions. He knew the astronomy of 
his time fairly well ; a selection from his treatise on the astrolabe is included 
in this volume. Attempts have frequently been made to use the astronomical 
allusions in his poems as aids to ascertaining their date of composition, but 
to little helpful purpose. 

149 



ISO CHAUCER 

yronne. The y- is the M.E. equivalent of O.E. ge-, the participial prefix, 
not retained in modern English, as it is in German. 

13. palmeres. A ** pilgrim" was a person making any, even a single, 
pilgrimage, as to Canterbury, St. James of Compostela, Rome, or Jerusalem. 
A " palmer," properly, was a pilgrim who had received, and was entitled to 
wear, the palm, as having visited Jerusalem. It seems to have come also to 
mean a person who devoted his life to making pilgrimages, subsisting by 
charity on the way. 

17. St. Thomas Becket. See Introduction, p. xxvii. 
20. See Introduction, p. xxvi. 

34. devyse. Present used as future, as often in O.E. and still in modern 
English, " I go to town to-morrow." 

40. The dot under the e in wkiche indicates that the e is silent. This dia- 
critic is used throughout the Prologue where necessary, but not in the other 
texts, as the reader will soon learn to recognize the silent ^'s without help. 
Similarly, the use of accents to mark the meter is confined to the Prologue. 

43. Compare this realistic picture of the Knight — one who loved and ob- 
served chivalry — with the romantic conceptions of knightly prowess which 
we draw from the stories of King Arthur's court and other romances. The 
Knight had gained distinction in his military service for his king, and then, it 
would seem, went wherever fighting was going on, particularly against heathen 
foes, winning honor everywhere. Chaucer says nothing of lesser feats of arms, 
as in tourneys, for the Knight is a veteran of " mortal battles " and single com- 
bats to the death. He does speak of jousting when he comes to the young 
Squire. 

47-66. The knight is described as having taken part in " his lord's wars " 
(the campaigns of Edward III in France probably) and in many of the nota- 
ble wars of the half-century previous to Chaucer's writing. It is worthy of 
remark how many of these wars were against heathen foes ; against the Moors 
in Spain (Granada, Algeciras) and in Africa (Benamarin, Tremezen) ; with 
Pierre de Lusignan in Asia Minor (Adalia), in Egypt (Alexandria), and in 
Armenia (Ayas) ; with the Christian lord of Palathia, in Palathia, against the 
Turk; and with the famous order of Teutonic Knights in Prussia in campaigns 
connected with their conquests from the Lithuanians and other heathen Slavic 
peoples about the Baltic. It has not been satisfactorily ascertained th_at 
Chaucer drew his portrait from any real person. 

52. He had been placed in the seat of honor at banquets of the Knights 
of the Teutonic Order in Prussia above knights of other nations. 

63. In listes. That is, in single combat, champions of each side meeting 
each other, as in a tourney, by arrangement upon a challenge. 

75. The gypon of the Knight showed the marks of his habergeon as, in 




NOTES 151 

gratitude for his safe return or in performance of a vow, he had started im- 
mediately upon his pilgrimage. 

79. Note the contrasts and similarities which render the picture of the 
Squire doubly effective beside that of his father. His father, old and honored 
as he is, makes little show in his appointments. His son, in the happiness 
of his youth, takes pleasure in gay dress and in the exercise of the courtly arts 
in which he is proficient. But he gives every promise of following worthily 
his father's example. He is a " bachelor," that is, a candidate for knighthood, 
and, young as he is, has already seen service and approved himself well, for 
he is of unusual strength and yet agile, rides and jousts well (no athletic sport 
to-day could compare with jousting for the strength and skill required; read 
the opening chapters of Henry Newbolt's The New June), Withal, his cour- 
tesy, modesty, sense of duty, showed he inherited and emulated his father's 
fine qualities. 

It will be noticed that he was a " lover " (1. 80). This means that he made 
love a part of his profession of chivalry, doing service for his chosen lady 
(1. Z%), Sometimes service of this sort involved the performance of labori- 
ous, difficult, or dangerous feats imposed by the lover's mistress. Chaucer, 
writing of the Duchess Blanche in the Rime of the Duchess^ says, in the person 
of John of Gaunt, that she was not one to cause a lover to go, " without hood 
to the Dry Sea and come home by the Carrenare," that is, as recently made 
clear, to make a journey to the far interior of Asia — an ironical exaggeration, 
doubtless, but indicating the extravagant nature of some of these commissions. 
John of Gaunt is pictured in that poem as making a profession of love, as the 
Squire here is. 

100. His dutiful performance of this service indicates his careful bringing 
up. Etiquette in such matters was punctiliously regulated, as incidental 
references and books of courtesy show. 

loi. A yeoman ranked above a knave or groom. The yeoman here is an 
archer, clad in the " Lincoln green " characteristic of the famous English 
archers, dreaded by foreign nations. 

104. Skeat notes that Ascham in his Toxophilus considers peacock feathers 
too rough and heavy. Many that had used them because of their "gayness" 
had laid them aside; "the goose is best fether for the best shoter." 

107. Skeat explains this line as meaning, " His arrows were not draggled 
with feathers inclined too low," but there does not seem to be evidence for 
such a sense of drouped. The meaning seems to be simply that the arrows 
did not droop or fall in flight owing to poor feathers. 

115. The yeoman wore a silver image of St. Christopher because of the 
belief that a figure of the saint protected the wearer from danger. 

118. This is one of the most famous of Chaucer's portraits because of its 



152 • CHAUCER 

characteristic blending of sympathy and gentle mocking humor. He does 
full justice to the Prioress's goodness and amiability and tenderness of heart, 
but delights at the same time in her harmless complacency and her little 
refinements and affectations. 

A prioress (like a prior under an abbot) was the chief official under the 
abbess in a convent, or, in some cases, the head of a smaller or dependent 
convent. Chaucer's Prioress seems to have been the head of a convent, 
judging from the fact that she had a chaplain (1. 164), and from her general 
importance. 

120. The use of oaths in medieval times was frequent, as in some con- 
tinental countries to-day. The romances, and especially the miracle plays, 
are full of them. It was generally supposed that to swear by St. Eligius 
meant to swear not at all, as St. Eligius refused to swear when Ifagobert de- 
sired him to do so, and was believed without taking oath. Recent investiga- 
tion has shown that St. Loy was a patron saint of travelers, and that the 
passage means that, being on a journey, the Prioress for that reason confined 
her invocations for the time being to that saint. 

125. " French of the Benedictine convent of Stratford-le-Bow, not French 
of Paris." That is, she spoke Anglo-French, the provincial French of Eng- 
land, which had come to be very different from French of the Continent, or 
even its main source, Norman French. It was long supposed Chaucer was 
joking at the Prioress's expense, as one might say, " Oh, yes, she speaks French 
fluently — New York French." There are other similar references to dialectal 
varieties of French in England, and passages in French poems making sport 
of the provincial French of England, which seemed comical to French ears. 

161. A "crowned A" stood for Amor; that is. Love or charity, the great- 
est of the Christian virtues. 

164. With three priests, the number of pilgrims is thirty, not twenty-nine, 
the number Chaucer gives in 1. 24, " Well nine and twenty." The title and 
prologue of the Nun's Priesfs Tale indicate that there was one only. This 
seems to be a minor detail (one of many) left uncorrected by the author. 
We must remember that the work was incomplete at Chaucer's death, and was 
left still in the rough. 

165. Chaucer's description of the frank worldliness of the Monk is wholly 
genial and kindly — he has no quarrel with any one so frank and straightfor- 
ward — but a difference between profession and practice always awakens his 
irony, and one can begin to see how his humor can bite in the explanation he 
gives, to justify (so simply and reasonably from the Monk's point of view) that 
worthy's preoccupation with worldly pleasures. 

The Monk, it will be seen, was one of the men of business of his monastery, 
and also head of one of its minor branches. This illustrates the elaborate 



NOTES 153 

organization and large interests of a great monastery in medieval times. The 
administration of such an institution was somewhat Hke that of a large college 
or university to-day, and its chief officers had to be men of great executive 
ability and of varied gifts beside. Compare the Chronicle of Jocely^i of 
Brakelo7ide, a contemporary account of how the great Abbot Samson brought 
up the declining fortunes of his monastery, or CarlyJe's account of Samson 
in Past and Present. 

173. St. Benedict veas the founder of the Benedictine order, the earliest of 
the Roman monastic orders, and St. Maur was his disciple. The "rule" is 
the body of regulations, or constitution, observed by the members of an 
order. 

174. Relaxation of rule was frequent, especially where monasteries grew 
rich and their members more worldly and self-indulgent. 

177. a pulled hen. Such phrases to intensify a negative are very common 
in Middle English, apparently in imitation of the French. We use similar 
phrases ("I don't care a pin, a rap, a Continental," etc.), but with nothing 
like such a range of humorous allusion ("bean, pea, rag, oyster, drowned 
mouse," etc.). The reason why a plucked hen should be referred to as 
worthless is not clear ; possibly it was because it was believed not to be 
able to lay ^g^'i. But " hen " by itself is so used, and " plucked " was added 
probably merely as a humorous variation. 

178. The allusion is probably connected in some way with the legend of 
Nimrod's wickedness. 

179. 180. This comparison is a frequent one from an early time. The 
word recchelees has caused great trouble, attempts being made to emend it to 
some w^ord of which 1. 181 might be an explanation. In one manuscript a 
scribe has changed it to doisterlees with this idea in mind. The view gen- 
erally held now is that recchelees is right, and was used by Chaucer in the 
sense of "heedless of" or "careless in observance of " his vows, hence 
"without a rule," and hence, 1. 181, "out of his cloister." This is not 
satisfactory. The true explanation would seem to be that 1. 181 expresses 
a limitation on the word vionk in 1. 179. "Nor (did he care for the text 
which says) that a monk, when he is heedless of regulations, is to be likened 
to a fish that is waterless [which perishes if it passes out of its proper ele- 
ment]. This text is speaking of a monk when he is out of his cloister [for 
in his cloister he is under rule], but [in any case] he did not think the text 
worth considering." 

Emerson has shown that the text referred to in 1. 175 probably goes back 
to a saying ascribed to Jerome that holy fishers are found in the Scriptures, 
but not holy hunters. The comparison of the monk and the fish seems to 
have been a commonplace in theological reference. 



154 CHAUCER 

i86. The Augustinian rule (like the Benedictine) prescribed manual labor 
as a part of the daily routine. 

187. " How shall the world get the various kinds of service it requires? 
Let Austin have his manual labor reserved to him [if he cares so much for it. 
As for himself, his service lay in another ^direction]. Therefore he was a 
hard rider and hunter." 

204. prelate. Formerly applied to the superior officers of monasteries as 
well as to bishops ; here used humorously, as the monk was not really an 
abbot or prior. 

208. After describing a representative of the monastic orders, Chaucer 
turns next to the mendicant orders. The members of these orders differed 
from those of the monastic orders in not leading a cloistered life, but going 
about preaching, doing errands of mercy, and begging for their orders. The 
four chief orders were the Franciscans (also called Minorites and Gray Friars), 
the Augustines, the Dominicans (Black Friars or Jacobites), and the Carmel- 
ites (or White Friars). Their origin was in the thirteenth century and later. 
They became powerful and wealthy (despite the vows of extreme poverty im- , 
posed on their members), and awakened the lively jealousy of the monastic 
orders. 

The Friar is a " limitor " ; that is, one who begged within a certain ** limita- 
tion," or district assigned to him. Chaucer does not spare his hypocrisy and 
immorality, using his favorite method of ironical praise. This Limitor can 
make himself welcome everywhere, has innumerable friends, reputable and 
disreputable, can wheedle a gift equally well from a woman of wealth or a 
poor widow; uses his license to hear confession to make profit ; has a certain 
easy, selfish good nature and jollity, but is wholly unprincipled. 

216. frankeleyns. See note on 1. 331. 

220. licentiat. Holder of a special license from the pope to hear con- 
fessions independent of the episcopal authority to which the parish clergy 
were subject. A parish priest could not grant absolution in certain cases. 

225. The reader must be careful in this passage to understand to whom each 
he refers. " For to give to a mendicant order is a sign that a man is well 
shriven. For, if the penitent gave something, he durst make a cocksure state- 
ment that he knew the man was repentant," etc. 

239. champioun. Judicial cases might be decided by combat ; the 
" champions " here referred to were the professional fighters engaged for 
such contests by accused persons. 

242. lazar. Leprosy was a common ailment throughout Europe in medi- 
eval times and later. 

254. " In principio " {erat verbum), " In the beginning was the word J^ 
(John, i, i), the text used by the begging friars in entering a house. 



NOTES 155 

258. The Limitor was sought after as an umpire upon " love-days," that is 
days set for settling disputes by arbitration. 

262. Skeat cites Wyclif with reference to the richness of the cloth worn by 
friars. 

270. Forked beards were then fashionable. 

276. " He would the sea were kept safe from piracy, or privateering." 

277. Middelburgh is in the Netherlands. The Orwell, an estuary near 
Harwell, was formerly called the "port of Orwell." This reference aids in 
dating the Prologue between 1384 and 1388, as only during that period the 
wool staple (the port appointed for the trade in wool) was at Middelburgh. 

278. sheeldes. Crowns, so called (like the French ecus) as bearing shields 
on one side. The merchant knew how to get a good rate of exchange for his 
money. 

285. The term clerk originally meant a cleric; that is, a person in holy 
orders, of which there were eight. As learning was practically confined to 
clerics, it came to be applied to a person able to read and write, to students, 
or to persons of learning. The Clerk in this case is a student at the Univer- 
sity of Oxford. He has devoted himself especially to " logic," or " dialectic," 
the art of formal reasoning, one of the chief branches of medieval learning. 
Grammar, logic, and rhetoric made up the " trivium," and arithmetic, geom- 
etry, music, and astronomy, the " quadrivium," in the medieval curriculum of 
the seven " liberal arts." 

Medieval students were by no means all so devoted to their books as this 
Clerk. We hear of them often as idle and careless, wandering from one uni- 
versity to another, devoted to jovial pleasures, and more interested in making 
verses and singing them than in the pursuit of Aristotle and his philosophy. 
English students were notoriously troublesome at foreign universities, to which 
they resorted in large numbers. 

290. The works of Aristotle were a dominant influence in the intellectual 
life of Europe until reduced to less importance by the developments of the 
Renaissance. 

291. " He had not gotten a clerical position, nor was he worldly enough to 
hold an office." Qerics often held what we would call administrative positions. 

298. " Philosopher " also meant alchemist, and it is to this sense Chaucer 
refers jokingly. He delighted to make fun of the alchemists and expose their 
pretensions (as in the Canon's Yeoman^ s Tale), Hisdisbelief in both alchemy 
and astrology is a notable fact, for belief in both was general up to the 
eighteenth century, and still exists among ignorant and foolish people in our 
own day. 

307. moral virtue. Virtue or morality, excellence of character. We use 
the term virtue by itself in this sense. Chaucer is quoting the phrase from 
Aristotle, who distinguishes " moral virtue " from " intellectual virtue." 



IS6 CHAUCER 

309. The title of " Sergeant " indicated the highest rank to which a lawyer 
could attain in his profession. The degree was given only after long service 
and by special patent. It is now granted in England, but merely as an hon- 
orary degree, and confers no special rights and privileges as formerly. 

310. Parvis. Here, specifically the parvis, or porch, of St. Paul's, used 
especially by lawyers as a place of meeting. 

314. The "justices" or judges of the assize courts held in the various 
counties were appointed by special commission. He had often been so ap- 
pointed. 

317. robes. Robes (presumably the legal "long robes") given by clients 
in compliment in addition to the payment of their fees. 

331. A franklin was a landholder of wealth and position, but not bearing 
title, the equivalent of the modern country gentleman. This Franklin was a 
vavasour, and had held the honorable positions of Sheriff of his county, 
*'countour" (perhaps Auditor), and Knight of the Shire (that is. Member 
of Parliament). His wealth is indicated in 1. 339, and by his abounding 
hospitality. 

333. sangwyn. One of the four " complexions," or physical " tempera- 
ments," recognized by the old school of medicine (see 11. 41 1-444, note). 

336. Epicurus held that pleasure is the highest good. A common error 
accepts this pleasure as meaning pleasure of the senses; here, perhaps, for the 
first time in English. Chaucer found the doctrine of Epicurus in Boethius. 

340. See HF. 1022, note. 

365. These four craftsmen were clad in the livery (this word until the 
seventeenth century meant a special dress, not necessarily the dress of serv- 
ants) of their gild. The trade gilds in the several towns controlled each its 
particular trade or craft, as respects prices, number of apprentices, and the 
like, and exercised great influence in municipal affairs. It will be remem- 
bered that the miracle plays were put in charge of the gilds by the municipal 
authorities, each gild being responsible for a particular play. 

388. This is one of Chaucer's most famous portraits. How accurate in point 
of detail Chaucer is is illustrated by the fact that there was a vessel called the 
Maudelayne (1. 410) hailing from Dartmouth, then a port of some impor- 
tance, in Chaucer's own time. A higher truth of realism is seen in such graphic 
touches as the reference to the Shipman's riding, " as well as he could." A 
sailor's fondness for, and ignorance of, riding is now proverbial, but Chaucer 
was very likely the first to note it with the artistic eye for characteristic detail 
and to record it. Similarly picturesque is the reference to the drafts of wine 
stolen from the consignment of wine while the ** chapman" (the owner or his 
agent) was asleep; and that also of his making his prisoners walk the plank 
(1. 4CX)), when he fought and conquered as privateer, or even possibly as pirate, 



NOTES 157 

for in those days a sea captain need not hesitate to turn pirate on occasion if 
a good opportunity offered. The Shipman knows his trade well — tides, cur- 
rents, the dangers that beset him, harborage (all the havens from Scotland 
in the Baltic to the Cape of Finistere), the changes of the moon, pilotage. 
Chaucer also knew it well; he must have known many a shipman intimately 
through his service in the customs. But there is more than the inventive and 
realistic imagination at work here. There is a touch of the highest poetic 
imagination in the justly famous line, " With many a tempest had his beard 
been shaken." 

411-444. The Doctor of Physic introduces a curious and, in its way, interest- 
ing subject, the old school of medicine founded on the teachings of Galen, 
a Greek physician of the second century, a.d., which dominated medical 
teaching to the seventeenth century, when they were gradually displaced. The 
system taught in brief that, as there were four elements, earth, air, fire, and 
water, and as these represent four qualities, hot, cold, dry, moist, in combina- 
tion (earth, for example, being cold and dry, water cold and moist, etc.), so 
these qualities, or " humors," appear in four " complexions," or characteristic 
temperaments, of man, the " melancholy " (cold and dry), the " phlegmatic " 
(cold and moist), the " choleric" (hot and dry), the "sanguine" (hot and 
moist). We still use these terms to describe the facial appearance and mental 
disposition. For example, a " sanguine complexion," that is, one that is ruddy 
and plethoric ; a " sanguine temperament," one that is hopeful and eager. If 
there is excess of one or more of the humors in the body, a morbid " complex- 
ion " results, indicating disease, and it is the duty of the physician to counter- 
act this excess by applying their opposites to effect a cure. The drawing of a 
great quantity of blood from a patient, so long in vogue, was due to the belief 
originally that evil humors would be drawn away with it. Galen's principles 
were entirely incorrect, but his teaching was an advance in certain respects, 
as in the use of the pulse in diagnosis. 

Galen believed in the use of amulets and charms. This fourteenth-century 
Doctor used astrology. The fundamental idea in astrology (going back to a 
remote antiquity) is that the stars (planets), in their various combinations and 
relations as they circle in the heavens, affect the lives of men and events; that 
a man's life is shaped by their " influence " at the moment of his birth, and 
the success or failure of an undertaking is determined in this way, according 
to the moment it is entered upon. The doctor watched his patient (1. 415) 
in respect to special hours, good or bad, which he ascertained by his " natural 
magic " (magic without recourse to the agency of spirits, using natural means), 
and (1. 417) "he knew how to find out the character of the ascendant of the 
images he used in treating his patient." It was believed that by making and 
treating an image of the patient, or part of him, or of something associated 



158 CHAUCER 

with his malady in some way, as the case might be, at the proper time, the 
patient might be benefited. This notion of using images with intent to harm 
persons or animals is familiar in witchcraft. 

426. letuaries. Electuaries ; a paste of honey or other sweetmeat dis- 
guising the taste of a drug mixed in it. 

429-434. Chaucer is as fond of a list of impressive or musical names as 
Milton. Here he cites all the famous medical authorities, including the god 
of Medicine, Esculapius; the Greek physicians, Dioscorides, Rufus, Hip- 
pocrates, and Galen; the Arabian physicians, Haly, Serapion, Rhasis, Avicenna, 
Damascenus ; the Moorish scholar, Averroes; Constantinus of Salerno; 
Bernardus Gordonius, professor of Medicine at Montpellier in Chaucer's time; 
John Gatesden, physician at Oxford in the early part of the fourteenth century; 
Gilbertus Anglicus, if Warton is right in thus explaining " Gilbertyn." It is 
not worth while to learn these names, but it is worth while to notice the 
names of Arabian scholars among them. Arabian scholarship, especially in 
respect to mathematics, astronomy, and alchemy (the forerunner of chem- 
istry), had a most important influence, more particularly through the Arabs 
and Moors in Spain, upon Europe. 

438. Doctors have always had a reputation for skepticism. 

443. The plague (the same as the bubonic plague to-day) made a series 
of visitations throughout Europe in this century. The Great Plague of 1349, 
which produced such important economic effects in England by the number 
of deaths it caused, was followed by several lesser visitations. 

443. Chaucer's joke turns on the use of gold as a medicine, the so-called 
aurum potabile, made of powdered gold in oil. 

445. The Wife of Bath is a woman of the lower middle class, coarse, hearty, 
jolly, fond of sport, who has become well-off by her shrewd management of 
her business (and of her five husbands also) and is now bent on having 
every one pay her as much attention as possible and also upon seeing the 
world. The account of her journeys (11. 463 following) may well surprise us. 
She is one of Chaucer's most striking characterizations; he gives her a long 
prologue to her tale, in which (safely in her character) he comments sharply 
on certain medieval church doctrines with a freedom prophetic of the inde- 
pendent thinkers of the Reformation. 

460. at chirche-dore. Marriages took place at the church door, followed 
by mass within the church. 

465. There was a famous shrine of the Virgin at Boulogne. 

466. St. James of Compostela in Galicia was one of the most notable 
shrines visited by pilgrims in this and the following century. At Cologne she 
visited the shrine in which the reputed bones of the Magi were preserved. 

477. The beautiful picture which Chaucer gives of the devout and self- 



NOTES 159 

sacrificing Parson, devoted to the good of his parish, unsparing in ministering 
to his flock, patient and gentle, but able to administer a sharp rebuke when 
deserved, is in marked contrast to the biting irony of his portrayal of the 
Monk and Friar, and of the Pardoner below. And here Chaucer does not 
leave the opposite type, the negligent or self-seeking parish priest, unreproved; 
in 11. 507 ff. he refers to those who leave their benefices and their flocks to a 
curate and run off to St. Paul's to make money by appointment to a chantry 
or to be eased of living expenses by joining a brotherhood. 

It was formerly questioned whether Chaucer was a religious person or not. 
Probably he was not in the medieval sense, — he was too independent of mind 
for that, — but he certainly knew the spirit of true religion from its pretense, 
and in the truest sense possessed it himself. 

486. The Parson was unwilling to excommunicate those who were negli- 
gent in paying, or who refused to pay, their tithes. 

498. Matthew, v, 19. 

499. A common comparison in theological literature. 
509. See above, note on 11. 477 ff. 

526. spiced. That makes pretense of being just and scrupulous. The 
sense is derived, according to Skeat, from the French original. Fees were 
paid in advance to judges, called espices, spices. So paid, they would be 
just in judgment, and, if approached, could only be corrupted by a large 
bribe. Hence, a person with a ** spiced conscience " would be one who pre- 
tends to be scrupulous, but really not beyond taking a bribe. 

529. Chaucer's praise of the goodness of the Plowman was probably due 
to the great poem of Langland's Piers Plowman. In his vision, seeing greed 
and corruption manifest everywhere in the world and the church, Langland 
finds true religion and holiness only in the simple plowman. 

541. Skeat notes that people of quality would not ride upon a mare. 

542. See the notes below on these characters. 

545 fif. Note how Chaucer's unfailing skill in selecting details that express 
essential character effects a totally different impression in different cases; — 
compare, for example, this picture of the Miller with that of the Prioress. 
Another principle, as well, is involved. Chaucer gives the Miller only so 
much attention as he deserves, while the portrait of the Prioress is carefully 
elaborated. Compare other characters in respect to the degree of their 
elaboration, and see how admirably in each case Chaucer's artistic judgment 
is justified. Chaucer always bears in mind what is necessary for the reader 
to form a complete conception, and that condition satisfied, how far the intrin- 
sic interest and dramatic effectiveness of the subject in hand permits further 
elaboration. * 

548. The prize usually offered in country wrestling bouts. 



i6o CHAUCER 

560. goliardeys. A jester or buffoon; here, a teller of loose tales. The 
word takes its meaning from the writers of loose, usually satirical, Latin 
verse, during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, throughout France, Eng- 
land, and Germany, whose model was a certain supposed Bishop " Golias," 
invented either to explain the name or to serve as the nominal author of 
such poems. 

562. tollen. To take toll. Millers were paid for grinding grain in kind, 
taking a certain fraction of the quantity ground. This Miller vi^ould take 
three times the proper amount. 

563. "And yet, forsooth, he had a thumb of gold." According to one ex- 
planation, a miller's thumb assumed a characteristic shape, owing to his testing 
flour by rubbing it between thumb and finger, and that a miller was said to 
have a thumb of gold when able to test flour skillfully. This would lead to 
one possible interpretation of Chaucer's meaning, namely, that the miller was 
able to do well for himself not only by dishonesty in taking toll, but also by 
his skill in testing flour. This interpretation is, however, open to question, 
partly because, so far as there is any evidence, the golden thumb seems to be 
itself associated with skill in taking toll so as to get as much as possible (see N. 
E.D. s.v. miller, i b), and partly because of the proverb, "An honest miller 
has a golden thumb," i.e. no miller is honest. Chaucer undoubtedly has the 
proverb in mind, delighting in its irony, and in giving to it a still further and 
more subtle ironic turn: "He took toll thrice, and yet he was an honest 
miller, for he had the thumb of gold honest millers have " ; that is, by impli- 
cation, he not only took his toll three times over, but took it with the thumb 
so disposed as to afford himself the largest quantity possible each time. 

565. Still a favorite instrument, especially in Scotland and in many parts of 
the Continent. 

567. The duty of a manciple, as of a steward to-day, was to purchase pro- 
visions and stores for a community. The title was one used in monasteries, 
colleges, and the " temples " or community houses of the legal societies called 
the "Inns of Court." This clever steward, while an ignorant man (1. 575), 
by his cleverness could " set the caps " of all the wise lawyers in his temple, 
trained though they were in the care of estates and the charge of public ac- 
counts. 

587. A reeve was a bailiff. In this case, the Reeve was an upper bailiff, 
and, apparently, in charge of an estate, in respect to practical details, during 
its owner's minority. 

594. auditor. In its usual present meaning, a person appointed to check 
the accounts of another and see that they are correct. 

611. After stealing from his lord, he knew how to win his lord's liking, and 
please him, by giving and lending to him of what was really his own property. 



NOTES i6i 

His master was probably on allowance during minority, and when short of 
money came to the Reeve, who gave him a gift or loan, and got in return 
thanks, and a present of a coat and hood beside. 

6i6. As appears from 1. 619, the Reeve was from Norfolk. It is an t:f* 
cellent illustration of Chaucer's truth in minor details, that Scot was, and is 
still, a name widely used there for horses. Chaucer, it may be added, had 
ancestors who lived in Norfolk, and may have had kinsfolk living there during 
his lifetime. 

619. Notice the spelling Northfolk, as illustrating the etymology of Norfolk. 

623. A Summoner was an ecclesiastical officer whose duty it was to detect 
offenses against the ecclesiastical law and bring the offenders before the 
ecclesiastical court, which at this time had charge of certain cases and offenses 
now taken care of in the civil court; for example, matrimonial and testamen- 
tary cases, those concerned with church dues, immorality, perjury, etc. Chaucer 
deals with him as he has already dealt with the Monk and the Friar, exposing 
his corrupt practices by ironic praise. 

624. cherubynnes. The plural used as a singular. This has been a common 
error at all times, owing to a mistaken use of the Hebrew plural, cherubim, as 
a singular. Cherubs in church windows and elsewhere were depicted as red in 
color, whence the allusion. 

625. Salt phlegm was a malady attributed to too much of the phlegmatic 
humor in the blood. 

641. In his capacity as officer of the ecclesiastical court. 

642. A proverb — "a jay can call Watt by name as well as the pope can." 
The jay (not our jay, but a bird similarly noisy, whence the transfer of name 
to our jays) could be trained to talk like a parrot or magpie. 

646. A formula used after stating a case, " The question is, what law (is 
there bearing on this point) ? " 

652. He could get his money away from a foolish or inexperienced person. 
Cf. the modern phrase, " to pluck a pigeon." 

655. The archdeacon (who is the executive of the bishop) sat over the 
lowest ecclesiastical court, and might administer excommunication as a pun- 
ishment. 

658. "The purse is the archdeacon's place of punishment." The readi- 
ness of the archdeacon to receive a fine in place of excommunicating the of- 
fender was well known to the Summoner. 

659. Chaucer ironically forces home the slant at the archdeacon. " Of 
course he was lying, for every guilty man ought to fear excommunication, fot 
it will slay the soul just as absolution will save it." 

667. A garland, set upon a pole (the "ale-stake "), was the sign of an ale- 
house, as a bush of ivy, indicating the sale of wine (the ivy typified Bacchus), 



l62 * CHAUCER 

was of a tavern. The garland was made of three hoops at right angles, deco- 
rated with ribbons. 

669. A pardoner was a person licensed to sell papal pardons and indul- 
gences. Indulgences were documents conveying remission of the punishment 
still due for sins even after absolution; in common practice they were re- 
garded as licenses freeing the holder from the consequences of sins he might 
commit. The selling of pardons and indulgences, as by this rascally Pardoner 
with his false relics and canting hypocrisy, became a fearful abuse and was 
one of the practices most bitterly denounced by the Reformers. Jusserand 
has shown that Chaucer's account, caricature though it might seem, was not 
in the least exaggerated. 

670. Rouncivale. The Hospital of the Blessed Mary of Rouncivalle in 
London, a " cell " or branch of the Priory of Roncevaux in Navarre. 

674. The song is not known. 

682. It seems to have been the new fashion to ride with hair loose and the 
head bare. He had tucked his hood into his wallet, and only had a small 
cap on his head. 

685. vernycle. A copy of the " veronica," or handkerchief of St. Veronica 
at Rome, upon which the face of Christ was printed miraculously when she 
wiped his face with it when on his way to crucifixion. 

692. fro Berwyk unto Ware. From the north to the south of England. 

706. As we would say, " make monkeys of them." 

714. The reader will doubtless wish to have, with these other portraits, 
Chaucer's portrait of himself. See the link to Sir Thopas given on p. 97, 
and the note thereupon. 

726. " That ye ascribe it not to lack of good breeding on my part, though 
I speak plainly in this matter to tell you their words and their behavior, just 
as they were, nor though I speak their words precisely." Their behavior 
was not always seemly, and their stories were not all of them commendable, 
so Chaucer apologizes in advance. 

734. The he here and the second he in 1. 737 refer to the original teller. 
Such confusion in the use of pronouns is common in Middle English. 

741, 742. Chaucer found this in Boethius. 

746. Chaucer is as fond of a joke on himself as on other people. 

751. The Host (his name is given elsewhere as Harry Bailey) fulfils, 
throughout the links connecting the tales, the genial promise of his descrip- 
tion here. He exercises the authority given him with unfailing humor, tact, 
and firmness. 

782. I will yeve yow myn heed. Such affirmations were common in 
medieval use, " by my head," " maugre my head," etc. 

790-792. See the Introduction, p. xxix. 



NOTES 163* 

814. reportour. The Host was to remember and report the tales as 
umpire when giving judgment as to the best. 

823. our aller cok. "The cock to waken us all." In the Middle Ages, 
when there were few clocks, the cock's crow served as an indication of dawn. 

826. The watering place of St. Thomas was a brook two miles on the way 
to Canterbury. 

The Knight's Tale 

[A. 859-3108] 

[For comment upon this tale, see the Introduction, p. xxiii. Its relation to 
the original Palamon and Arcite^ mentioned in the Legend of Good Women^ 

And all the love of Palamon and Arcite 
Of Thebes, though the story is little known, 

has not been definitely determined. The earlier theory that Chaucer trans- 
lated Boccaccio's Teseide, more or less at length in stanzas, later used por- 
tions of his translation for other works {^Parliame^it of Birds^ Anelida and 
Arcite, and Troilus and Cressida), and then rewrote his version in couplets, 
cutting it down for the Canterbury Tales, is now generally discredited, and 
the view is accepted that the Knighfs Tale as we have it is practically iden- 
tical with the earlier work. 

It is important to remember that Chaucer's poem is not a "translation" of 
Boccaccio's. Only some six or seven hundred lines out of a total of 2250 are 
translated, or even imitated, from his original. [Chaucer's frequent improve- 
ments upon his source are illustrated in the note to 1. 1995.] 

Motto. The Latin verses prefixed to the KnigJifs Tale are drawn from 
the Thebaidos of Statins, Book xii, 11. 519 f. 

lamque domos patrias Scythicae post aspera gentis 
proelia laurigero subeuntem Thesea curru, 
laetifici plausus missusque ad sidera vulgi 
clamor et emeritis hilaris tuba nuntiat armis. 

"And now rejoicing plaudits and the shouts of the populace lifted to the sky, 
and the trumpet expressing joy in his approved conquests announce Theseus 
returning in his laureled chariot to his native country after his hard battles 
with the Scythian people." 

The appropriateness of the quotation will be seen upon reference to 11. 
866, 869, 870. The same passage is cited at the beginning of the story of 
Anelida and Arcite, an unfinished poem written before the Knighfs Tale, 
and dealing with a Theban knight at the court of Theseus. Chaucer there 



1 64 CHAUCER 

paraphrases the lines given above and the description of the triumph of 
Theseus which follows. 

860. In the Legend of Good Women Chaucer tells how Theseus escaped 
from the Minotaur in Crete by the aid of Ariadne, and how he traitorously- 
abandoned her on his way home because of his love for her sister. In that 
poem he is represented as one of the great examples of men's faithlessness in 
love. In this story, he is depicted as a great king, as magnanimous as he is 
powerful. 

866. regne of Femenye. Realm of the " woman's country " ; that is, of the 
Amazons. Femenye, or Amazonia, was traditionally identified with, made a 
part of, or placed near, Scythia, on the borders of Europe and Asia. 

868. Ipolita. Hippolyta. She appears as a character in A Midsummer'' s 
Night 'j Drea??i (Skeat). 

884. tempest. Apparently a reference to a ** watershake " which, just 
after her landing, December 18, 1381, destroyed the ship on which Anne of 
Bohemia came to England to wed Richard II. No tempest is mentioned in 
Boccaccio, and Lowes, who gives this explanation (^Modern Language Notes^ 
xix, 240), uses it as evidence in dating the poem. 

926. " That ensureth no estate, or condition to be well (free from the 
chance of change)." 

928. Clemence. Clemency, or Pity. Suggested by Boccaccio. 

932. Capaneus. One of the seven heroes who beseiged Thebes. 

938. Creon was king of Thebes contemporary with CEdipus. 

978-980. The pennon was of gold hammered thin in the shape of the 
Minotaur, the monster Theseus slew in the labyrinth at Crete by the aid of 
Ariadne. 

1041-1047. Compare the passage 1. 1500 ff. where Arcite rides forth to 
" doon his observaunce to May " (Skeat cites from A Midsujnmer'' s Nighfs 
Dream the parallel line "To do observaunce to a morn of May"). This 
paying honor to May is familiar to us in the special customs of May Day, but 
Emelye's devotion is not limited to the single day. These two passages (note 
especially 11. 1042 and 1496) recall Herrick's Corinna^s going a-Maying, 

Get up, get up for shame ! The blooming morn 
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. 
See how Aurora throws her fair 
Fresh-quilted colours through the air. 
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see 
The dew bespangling herb and tree ! 

1051. sonne is genitive. Note that aspect and disposition^ like many 
astrological terms, have become words in general use with senses colored by 



NOTES 165 

their original technical meaning. Saturn and Mars were planets of evil in- 
fluences. 

1089. we . . . sworn. " We had sworn it to be otherwise," " we had 
sworn to the contrary." 

1091. short and playn. " Brief statement of the plain fact of the matter." 

1 131. They were by kinship cousins, and by sworn vow (in accordance 
with a common medieval practice), "brothers." This assumed brotherhood 
was held to be a tie as close as, or even closer than, actual brotherhood. In 
later use, either traditionally derived from, or in imitation of, the medieval 
practice, the tie has even been called "blood brotherhood" (as in Germany), 
the ceremonies attending the oath sometimes including the drinking by each 
of a drop of the other's blood. 

1 155. par amour. With love, in the way of love; also, for love's sake. 
The phrase " to \ove par amour ^^ meant to love with the passion of love, not 
with the love of kinship, friendship, unimpassioned admiration, or religious 
adoration. 

1 163. Chaucer, here and below (1. 1262), is quoting Boethius; see HF. 972, 
note. 

1 1 72. al thy lyf. At any time in thy life. 

1 1 77. Skeat notes that the fable in this particular form is not found in any 
of the usual collections. The robber is usually a fox. 

1 198. This story is from the Romaunt of the Rose. 

1201. Note the evidence that the poem was originally written to be read. 

1247. The four "elements," from which, it was believed, all things were 
made. 

1259. matere. This matter of not accepting what God gives. 

1261. dronke ... as a mous. A common proverbial saying, due, it may 
be conjectured, to mice becoming stupefied by eating fermented mash. 

1347. questioun. In the sentimental cult of love, questions of conduct in 
love were debated with great nicety and seriousness. 

1374. Hereos. Eros, the Greek god corresponding to Cupid. 

1375. See A. 411, note, above. 

1376. "In the forward part of the head, in the fantastic cell of his brain." 
Skeat quotes Batman upon Bartholome with reference to madness as an in- 
fection of the foremost cell of the brain. The " cells " were supposed com- 
partments in the brain in which the various faculties were lodged. 

1377. up-so-down. The Middle English equivalent of our " upside down." 
the so is the same as as — " with the up as down." 

1387. slepy yerde. His sleep-producing wand, the caduceus. 

1388. hat. The broad-brimmed petasusy which Mercury is depicted as 
wearing. 



i66 CHAUCER 

1390. Mercury slew Argus, despite his hundred eyes, by charming him to 
sleep. 

1428. Chaucer substituted " Philostrate " for Penteo, the name which 
Boccaccio uses, borrowing it from Boccaccio's Philostrato, evidently in the 
belief, as Skeat points out, that it meant " one prostrated by love," whereas 
it really means " army lover." 

1494. From Dante, Purgatario^ i, 19, 20: — 

The beauteous planet, that to love incites, 
Was making all the Orient to laugh. 

1500. See 11. 1041-1047, note. 

1522. A widely spread proverb. Skeat cites it as used in Latin and German. 

1524. A proverb. 

1529. roundel. A short poem of from nine to fourteen lines, with one, 
two, or three lines repeated as a refrain, running usually in two rimes through- 
out. The modern rondeau is a form of it. Chaucer wrote a number, and 
also introduced them in one or two cases into longer poems. 

1539. A proverb still used in England. 

1546. Cadmus was the reputed founder of Thebes. Amphion, son of 
Zeus, took part in the expedition against Thebes, and moved its walls by the 
music of his lyre. 

1566. " My death was decreed before my first shirt." Chaucer uses this 
quaint figure twice elsewhere. Legend of Good WomeUy 2629, Troilus and 
Cressiday iii, 733. 

1625, 1626. From the Romaunt of the Rose^ 8487, and ultimately from 
Ovid, Metamorphoses^ ii, 846. 

1668. From the Teseide, but also found, as a proverb, elsewhere. 

1736. it am I. In Old English and in Middle English till about 1300, 
the form of this and similar phrases was Ic hit eom (" I it am; " so also " Thu 
hit eart," " He hit is," etc.). From about 1300 on, the form here used is 
found. In the fifteenth century, the modern form *' It is I," etc., begins. In 
the sixteenth century the use of the oblique case, "It is me," "It is thee," 
etc., begins to develop, owing to the pronoun's following the verb, where an 
accusative or dative is used with transitive verbs. It developed slowly, thee^ 
hiiUy her being at first more common in this use than me. At present " It is 
me " is regarded as a permissible usage by the best grammarians, though it 
has not attained an authority like that of " It is you," which developed earlier 
and wholly supplanted " It is ye," you^ in fact, taking the place of ye 
everywhere except in deliberately archaic language. 

1761. A favorite line; Chaucer used it five times (^Legeitd of Good Women^ 
503; Man of Law's Tale^ B. 660; Merchants Tale, E. 1986; Squire's Tale^ 
F. 479). 



NOTES • 167 

1799. The sense is "Who can make an utter fool of himself, unless he 
fall in love ? " There can be no folly equal that which one who is in love can 
commit. The idea is proverbial, and found from the classics down. 

1807. jolitee. Used ironically. 

1814. servant. A professed servant of love. 

1838. pjrpen in an ivy leef. Go and try and find comfort by whistling 
in a leaf. The phrase " he can go whistle for his pains " is still used. 

1850. fifty wykes, fer ne ner. " A year, not more or less." Skeat shows 
that " fifty wykes " means a year exactly, from the fact that the meeting for 
the tournament falls in May. He adduces interesting evidence in proof that 
Chaucer took care to be accurate in making the dates in the poem fit together 
and possess astrological significance. 

1866. "Other than that, one of you shall be either dead or made prisoner." 

1918. Compare Chaucer's other descriptions of temples of Venus, in the 
House of Fame, 119 ff., and Parliament of Bh-ds, 183 ff., the latter, like the 
present description, based upon the Teseide, vii, 55-59. The pains of love, 
and the traits, properties, and actions (personified as attendants in her train), 
to which Chaucer refers, are conventionally associated with the service of 
Venus or Cupid and the allegorical "Courts of Love." Following these are 
examples of persons who illustrate the sovereignty of love. 

1936. Citheroun. A mountain in Attica erroneously assumed to be sacred 
to Venus (really to Bacchus and the Muses) because of her name Cytheria 
derived from the island of that name, her home. The error appears in the 
Romaunt of the Rose and in Boccaccio's De Genealogia Deoru?n. 

1940. Chaucer borrows the gatekeeper from the Romaunt of the Rose. 

1941-1946. These examples are chosen with reference to the conclusion 
expressed in 11. 1 947- 1 954. 

1 947-1954. Because of his beauty Narcissus pined away for love of himself ; 
the wise Solomon was turned to idolatry by his seven hundred wives and 
concubines (I Kings, xi) ; despite her powers of magic, Medea had to suffer 
for her love of Jason when he abandoned her and she slew the children she 
had borne him ; and Circe, though she had turned so many men to beasts, 
was unable to enthral Ulysses. 

1955-1965. This description of Venus and that of Mars (11. 2041 ff.) seem to 
be taken from the De Deorum Imaginibus of Albricius. 

1959. howleth. " Crieth aloud." Such a use of the word was not ludicrous 
in Chaucer's time, as it would be now. 

1975-2040. Chaucer here uses Statins as well as his immediate original, the 
Teseide, 

1985. The appropriateness of the gray, chill light entering by reflection 
from the north is apparent, as Marsh noted ; Skeat, however, thinks the 
phrase to be due to a misunderstanding of a phrase in Statins. 



1 68 • CHAUCER 

1995. The graphic power of the following famous passage needs no point- 
ing out. But it is an excellent example of how Chaucer frequently transcends 
his original. Compare Teseide, vii, ^iZ^ 34 with this passage : — 

Videvi I'lre rosse come fuoco 
E la Paura pallida in quel loco, 
E con gli occulti lerri i Tradimenti 
Vide, e le Insidie con giusta apparenza, 

" He saw Anger, red as fire, and pallid Fear in that place, and Treason with 
weapons hidden he sees, and Deceits wearing the appearance of truth." 

1999. Often quoted of recent years from Stevenson, who borrowed the 
phrase from Chaucer, in his poem in A Portrait : — 

I am the smiler with the knife. 

The battener upon garbage I. 
Good God, with such a rancid life, 

Were it not better far to die ! 

2007. See Judges, iv.' 

2017. Several emendations have been suggested to avoid the curious use 
of hoppestres, dancers. It seems plain, however, that Chaucer supposed cari- 
nae bellatrices in Statius or nave bellatrici in Boccaccio, which really mean 
"warships," to mean "dancing" or "tossing ships," as if the adjective were 
ballatrices or ballatrici. Skeat adds evidence of a belief that Mars in the 
Zenith, in cooperation with a fixed star, was hostile to ships and caused them 
to be burned. 

2024-2026. These are trades appropriate to persons born under the influence 
of the planet Mars, the planet and the god being identified for poetic purposes. 

2028-2030. Chaucer may have learned the story in a version which did not 
give the name of Damocles. 

2031-2032. Familiar examples of great men who suffered violent deaths. 

2041-2050. See 11. 1955-1965, note. 

2045. Puella and Rubeus are two of the sixteen figures used in the art of 
geomancy, or divination by the writing of dots. Four lines of dots written 
hurriedly, no note being taken of the number, are counted to ascertain 
whether they are odd or even. Write, in a place apart, for each odd, a single 
dot, for each even, two dots to right and left, in sequence vertically. Sixteen 
possible figures can thus be formed as the chance sequence of odds and evens 
may decide. With each of these figures was associated one of the " elements " 
(earth, air, fire, water), a planet, and a zodiacal sign, and the particular com- 
bination of the three belonging to the particular figure chanced upon gave the 
desired divination. The figure Puella comes from the sequence odd, even, 
odd, odd; Rubeus from even, odd, even, even. The planet of Puella was 



NOTES 169 

Venus, and Chaucer may have mentioned it by error for "Puer" (odd, odd, 
even, odd), which, like Rubeus, had Mars for its planet. 

2056-2061. Calistopee. Calisto, a nymph of Diana, changed into the con- 
stellation of the Great Bear. The apparent error in 1. 2059 (the polestar being 
in the Lesser Bear) was derived by Chaucer from his sources. The son of 
Calisto (1. 2061) was Areas, changed into the constellation of Arctophylax, or 
Bootes. 

2062-2064. Dane. Daphne, whom Apollo loved and changed into a laurel. 

2065. Attheon. Actaeon. 

2070. Atthalante. Atalanta, the famous huntress of classical mythology, 
who was exposed by her father on the mountain side as an infant, as he had 
desired a son, and was found and brought up by hunters. The story «f how 
she was finally beaten in a race by the trick of the three golden apples, and 
forced to wed her conqueror, is familiar. 

2071. Meleagre. The hero of Greek legend who slew the Calydonian boar, 
and (in later versions) became the lover of Atalanta. See Ovid, Metamorphoses^ 
viii, 299. 

2075. Diana, an Italian nature goddess, became identified with the Greek 
Artemis. She is represented here with her familiar attributes as protector of 
wild animals, huntress, goddess of the moon, of childbirth (hence the title 
Lucina, see following note), and also (in accordance with the later mythologies) 
is confused with Persephone, or Proserpine, the wife of Pluto. 

2085. Lucina was originally a separate goddess, daughter of Jupiter and 
Juno, who presided over childbirth, but was later frequently confused with 
Juno and Diana, as exercising a like office. 

2088. Chaucer indicates the excellence of the painter by his care in the 
choice of his colors. 

2125-2127. Chaucer, of course, knew perfectly well that the contestants 
were not armed in armor of his own time — he is consciously modernizing 
the story throughout to make it realistic to his readers, and here takes the 
best means of suggesting the diversity of arms and armor. • Even while doing 
so, he has to make, in 1. 2125, his little joke about it. 

2129. To illustrate the greatness of the champions involved in the contest, 
Chaucer describes one on each side. When he is compared with his source, 
Boccaccio, his superior art is evidenced here, as elsewhere, in the avoidance 
of digressions and long incidental descriptions ; Boccaccio devotes a whole 
book to the two trains of champions. 

2141. nayles. Of the bear. 

2156. Chaucer seems to have added the name Emetrius to the story. 

2197-2206. A graphic picture of medieval courtly life. 

2217. Palamon goes to pray to Venus during the hour of Sunday night 



I70 CHAUCER 

which was sacred to her ; so similarly Emily and Arcite to Diana and Mars 
during hours of Monday sacred to these divinities. 

2224. Adoun. Adonis, the fair youth whom Venus loved and mourned 
when wounded by a boar. 

2271. inequal. The night and day, as determined by sunrise and sunset, 
were divided, in astrology, each into twelve equal parts. Therefore an hour 
of day was never equal to an hour of night except at the equinoxes. These 
hours were therefore called "unequal," as compared with the "equal hours" 
measured by a clock. 

2294. Not in Statius, as Skeat notes, but in the Teseide. The reference is 
merely a general one for impressiveness, as often in Chaucer and other 
medieval poets. 

2299. See 1. 2075, note. 

2303. Attheon. Actseon. See 11. 2065-2068. 

2313. A reference to Diana as the "tri-form goddess"; namely, Luna in 
the sky, Diana on earth, and Proserpine in Hades. See 1. 2075, note. 

2382. The omitted passage has reference to the love of Mars for Venus. 

2403. See 1. 2382, note. 

2437. A proverbial comparison. 

2451. agayn his kynde. As in the case of Mars above, god and the 
planet are identified. The planet Saturn was a planet of ill omen and the 
cause of strife and dissension. Hence, to cause strife to cease was " against 
his nature." 

2454. Saturn's orbit was then the largest known. The planets Uranus and 
Neptune were not discovered till the nineteenth century. 

2462. The sign of the Lion was supposed to increase evil influence. 

2507. Skeat thinks Shakespeare remembered the passage in Henry F, iv, 
Prol. 12. 

2512. Note that blowen here means "utter, send forth," an obsolete sense 
in use from the fourteenth to the seventeenth century. 

2614-2619. " He," throughout this passage (as often in Middle English) is 
used as an indefinite demonstrative — translate " one," " another," " yet 
another," etc. 

2615. on his feet. On foot ; see 1. 2550. 

2626. Galgopheye. Plainly, as Skeat points out, the vale of Gargaphie, 
sacred to Diana (Ovid, Metamorphoses^ iii, 156), where Actaeon was turned 
into a stag. 

2683. "And was his whole (or sole) delight and happiness as concerns 
the desire of his heart." 

2691. Death in this way from striking against the high front saddle bow 
was possibly not unusual. Skeat quotes the record of an accident curiously 



NOTES 171 

like that of Arcite which happened in Chaucer's time. But the detail is 
taken from the Teseide. 

2710. Note the construction. 

2745. for any lechecraft. " Despite any physician's help (however 
skillful)." 

2749-2750. The "virtues" are powers assumed to be given to the body by 
the soul. The " virtue expulsive " (as a function of the " animal virtue " 
seated in the brain) is the power of the body to expel what is hurtful. The 
" natural virtue," resident in the liver, is the power which moves the " hu- 
mors " of the body by means of the veins (Skeat). 

2787. " For one to speak of a servant [of Love] in proper terms." 

2810. Chaucer, as Skeat points out, had already used Boccaccio's descrip- 
tion of the passage of Arcite's soul to heaven in reference to the death of 
Troilus in the Troilus and Cressida. Hence, he makes use here of his 
frequent humorous trick of pleading ignorance in regard to difficult matters. 

2815. ther . . . gye. " Where may Mars guide (care for) his soul." 

2874. wh3rte. For the reason that Arcite was unmarried. 

2920. Skeat has an interesting note on the development of the list of trees 
as a poetic convention — from Ovid through Virgil, Lucan, Statius, Boccaccio, 
Chaucer (in two passages), Tasso, Spenser. To these might be added several 
in English poets in the seventeenth century. 

2928. amadrides. Hamadryades. Each tree, according to the beautiful 
classical myth, had its own nymph dwelling within it. 

2960. wake-pleyes. Folk-plays and dances associated with special wakes 
or festivals. 

2967. In the Teseide^ Emily marries Arcite upon his deathbed, and 
Palamon shortly after Arcite's death in accordance with the dying man's in- 
junction. The change which Chaucer makes enables him to avoid the dis- 
cussion by which, after Arcite's death, the formal expressions of unwillingness 
of Emily and Palamon are overcome, and must otherwise, as well, be con- 
sidered an improvement in the proper respect shown to Arcite's memory. 

2987-3074. The homily of Theseus is drawn from Boethius, as Skeat 
pointed out. Other passages might be added to those cited from Skeat. 
The poet has been criticized for inserting this homily, though elsewhere so 
cleverly omitting whatever clogged and delayed the action, but its insertion is, 
in fact, justified as an argument by which the obstacle to the union of Pala- 
mon and Emily, caused by the tragic end of Arcite and then grief for him, is 
removed. 

2987. Firste Moevere. God, as the primal source of the energy of the uni- 
verse ; so used in theology and philosophy, and not to be confused with the 
Primum Mobile, though suggested by it. cause. The effective cause, or 



172 CHAUCER 

agency, of the motion of the universe (of which God is the "mover"), 
namely, the Primum Mobile^ the outermost of the inner crystal spheres, 
which, according to the theories, modified at various periods, of the Greek 
philosophers and accepted generally as late as the seventeenth century, sur- 
rounded the earth. The eight inner spheres bore respectively the seven 
planets and the fixed stars. This outermost sphere supplied motion to others 
within it bearing the fixed stars and the planets. The use of cause is an 
unusual one. It may have been suggested by Chaucer's familiarity with the 
legal phrase of " moving " a " cause " or " case." 

2988. Love is thus represented by Boethius as binding together into a 
unity of action and harmony of effect the contrary qualities of the elements. 
The figure of the chain may be from the Roinaunt of the Rose^ " La bele 
chaene doree qui les quatres elemens enlace," or some common source in 
medieval philosophy. 

3042. Chaucer probably drew this new proverbial phrase, perhaps already 
proverbial, at least in French use, from the Romaunt of the Rose. 

3089. " For gentle mercy ought to take precedence over strict justice," a 
doctrine urged also in the Prologue to the Legend of Good Women, 



Head-Link to Sir Thopas 
[B. 1881-1901] 

[The terms " head-link," " end-link," are applied to the passages describing 
what the pilgrims do and say, which link together the tales. This head-link 
was selected partly as a sufficiently good example of these passages, and 
partly because of its special interest as containing a portrait of Chaucer drawn 
by himself. 

One must not suppose that Chaucer is paying himself a compliment in the 
last line. As a matter of fact he begins to recite what in form is a Northern 
romance in a characteristically elaborate verse form, which, though really 
a most delightful parody on the Northern romance, is of course supposed to 
be a genuine one and is represented as irritating the company, and the Host 
especially, beyond endurance by its " drasty speech." The Host breaks in 
and stops him, and Chaucer thereupon tells the long moral tale of Melibeus 
in prose. 

Chaucer's description of himself as knowing no tale except a rime he 
learned long ago is wholly delightful as a humorous perversion of the truth. 
The entire portrait and the reception given his first attempt to please the 
company is an ej^cellent example of Chaucer's frequent depreciation of him- 
self, partly due to his enjoyment of the joke of it, partly inspired by the 



NOTES 173 

modesty which, with consideration for others, lies at the root of all true 
courtesy and its outward expression in good manners.] 

1881. miracle. Story of a miracle, a legend, namely the tale of the Prioress 
which has just been told. 

1885. " What man artow ? " " What manner of man art thou ? " 

1890. That is, both were stout. 

1893. elvish. Skeat believed this to mean "elf-like, akin to the fairies; 
alluding to his absent looks and reserved manner." This sense is not, how- 
ever, justified by the parallel passages he cites. The term implies likeness 
to the elves in one of two senses, either " petulant, peevish " or " tricksy, 
impish" (see the N. E. D.). The Host is merely rallying Chaucer, and prob- 
ably uses the word in the first of these two senses : " He seemeth peevish by 
his behavior." It is to be noted that in giving up Skeat's definition, we need 
not give up our impression of Chaucer as abstracted, and happily occupied 
with his own thoughts, for that is implied in 11- 1886 f., and in the House 
of Fame, where he speaks of his life while at the customs. 

The Nun's Priest's Tale 

[B. 401 1-4686] 

[This little tale is one of the best examples of Chaucer's art, his ability to do 
a certain thing in precisely the right way. The description of the widow's 
house has been likened, as a bit of genre painting, to a masterpiece of the 
Dutch school. The effectiveness of the character and dialogue is carried to 
just the right degree of brilliancy to avoid destroying atmosphere. No better 
example could be found of the artistic restraint which led Chaucer to repress 
his wit, especially in satire, so as never to disturb or destroy the realistic basis 
of his story, the truth of its values in relation to the unity of the whole, its 
illusion to the reader as something sensibly and appealingly true. Take it in 
the way he delineates the cock and hen, his manner of attributing human 
traits to them. Chauntecleer the magnificent, with just a touch of bravado 
in his lordly pomp and fallible enough to be seriously disturbed by his evil 
dream, is withal a true gentleman, courteous and gallant ; while he winces 
under his favorite wife's admonitions, overpowers her by his parade of learn- 
ing, and takes his marital privilege of making a little fun of her, he is always 
careful not to hurt her feelings. Pertelote, on the other hand, is truly femi- 
nine; it is the very depth of her affection and solicitude which makes her 
barb her speech in attempting to relieve his mind and in rallying him upon 
the fear his dream inspires. Yet they remain for us a real cock and hen, 
though made so far human, partly because their humanization is not carried 



174 CHAUCER 

too far, partly because^ their attributive humanity is congruous with our 
interpretation of the appearance and actions of cocks and hens as we see 
them in the barnyard. It would have been so easy, by forcing the satire 
(effectively enough so far as the satire was concerned), to turn portraiture 
into caricature; we would have enjoyed the wit of the satire itself, but the 
characters employed would have become merely mechanical expedients, with 
loss of point and vitality to the satire itself. It is perhaps worth while here 
to call attention to the resemblance between Chaucer's Chauntecleer and 
Rostand's Chantecler; in his allegorical and satirical use of the cock and 
other animals Rostand is credited by those who have seen the play (it is not 
so plain in the play when read) with having avoided a similar danger. 

To understand the full appeal of the story to medieval hearers, one must 
know something of its sources and historical relation. Stories of animals 
speaking and acting as if human beings are found in the folk lore of primi- 
tive peoples throughout the world. These are not, primarily, fables in the 
sense in which the word " fable " is most familiar to us — stories of animals used 
to point a moral as in the collections under the name of ^sop, or as told so 
charmingly by La Fontaine. They are stories told simply for amusement, like 
the negro stories of Uncle Remus, which (with different animals as the 
original characters) were brought over by the negroes from Africa. One 
common class includes stories how an animal of reputed sagacity (like Br'er 
Fox) is outwitted by an animal not thought of as shrewd, or whose special 
characteristic is an impish sense of fun (like Br'er Rabbit). A still broader 
class is of cases where an animal in danger gets free from his enemy by the 
use of some clever trick — the class to which Chaucer's story belongs. These 
popular stories of animals passed into literature from among the folk, and led 
to the invention of similar stories, and the use of them for satirical purposes. 
Most famous of all collections of such stories is the Ro7?iance of Reynard, 
often called the "beast epic," the central figure in which is the fox. Some 
of the stories in it are true folk tales, analogues to which are found through 
Europe and in the Orient, even in India; others are inventions, and the coir 
lection was made, in a spirit of genial satire, by an unknown writer of 
unknown date. It was immensely popular, and justly so, in France and 
Germany, — probably also in England, though there is no English version 
extant before Caxton's in the close of the fifteenth century. 

The precise source of Chaucer's tale is not known. There are one or two 
rather striking resemblances to a version of the story by Marie de France, 
but these are due merely to a common tradition. Miss Petersen {Radcliffe 
College Monographs, No. lo), by a comparison of Chaucer's version with those 
in the French Roman de Renart and in the German Reinecke Fuchs, reached 

1 Compare Root, The Poetry of Chaucer^ p. 215. 



i 



NOTES 175 

the conclusion that Chaucer^s original was from a version nearer the extant 
German than the extant French version. 

Miss Petersen has also pointed out how Chaucer adapts the tale to the 
teller by giving it, while careful not to go so far as to injure the telling of the 
tale which was his chief concern, some resemblance to the medieval sermon, 
with its rambling references to favorite topics and its use of stories at once 
moral and diverting. 

In the text in this volume, the substance of the discourse of the cock on 
dream warnings which prove true is given in abstract. The summarizing 
of the passage is justified by the aim of this volume to bring into practicable 
limits a sufficient variety of Chaucer's works to enable the reader to gain a 
proper idea of his scope ; moreover, the point and effectiveness of the tale is 
not seriously diminished.] 

4022. In more pretentious dwellings, the hall was the public living room, 
the bower the private rooms more especially for the ladies' use. The widow's 
lowly cottage had but one room probably, which was at once her " hall " and 
" bower." 

4028-4029. Modern medicine cannot improve upon this. 

4039. Chauntecleer. The traditional name for the cock in the beast epic 
of Reynard the Fox and in popular use, in reference to his clear song. 

4041. orgon. A plural (Lat. neuter plural, organd)^ d^gon in the next line 
shows, organ, with reference to its pipes, was commonly used in the plural, 
"the organs"; also later "pair" or "set of organs." Compare bagpipes, and 
see N.E.D. 

4045-4048. The cock kept track of each degree of ascension of the equinoc- 
tial, and, as Skeat points out, crowed every hour, as 15° of the equinoctial 
make an hour. 

4064-4069. The song referred to and quoted 1. 4064 has been found by 

Skeat. 

My lefe is faren in lond 
Alias, why is she so ? 
And I am so sore bound, 
I may not come her to. 
She hath my hert in hold. 
Wherever she ride or go, 
With trew love a thousand-fold. 

4084. me mette. Impersonal, "it dreamed me." So used with the 
preterit like "me thought." 

4104-4105. A conventional conjunction of qualities desirable in lovers and 
husbands. 

41 14. fume. Fumes or vapors from overeating or drinking, giving rise to 
depression and melancholy, complecciouns. See A. 411-444, note. 



176 CHAUCER 

41 18. A superfluity of red "choler," or red bile, causes dreams of evil 
things that are red; a superfluity of melancholy, or black bile (1. 4123), 
causes dreams of evil things that are black. 

4353-4354. " For, as certain as * In principio ' [' In the beginning was the 
word,' etc., John, i, i, i.e. * as true as the Gospel '], *w^oman is the confusion 
of man.' " After Pertelote's affectionate but somewhat sharp curtain lecture, 
Chauntecleer cannot resist citing this venerable gibe at her sex, mistranslating 
it, however, for her benefit, partly out of gallantry and partly for his own 
secret amusement. 

4377. This belief, going back probably to Talmudic tradition, that the 
world was created in March, is frequently referred to in medieval theology; 
for example, in Bede, ^Elfric, and the Old English Martyrology, 

4380-4387. Skeat has pointed out that the reference to Taurus proves the 
day to be May 3. This raises a difficulty as regards " Since March began," 
as " thirty days and two " would be correct only when reckoning from the first 
of April — a difficulty recognized by the revision in the Harleian Ms. 7334, 
** Syn March bygan tway monthes and dayes two." The text follows Skeat in 
punctuating the phrase as parenthetical — as if " Since March began [and 
passed]" or -'Since March began [the year]." But as Tatlock says (^The 
Harleian Manuscript 7334, Chaucer Society 1909 for 1904), it may be a 
mere slip. " Chaucer usually becomes a trifle muddled and obscure when he 
tries these indirect, Dantesque methods of telling time." 

4386-4387. Compare 11. 4045-4048, note. Prime is the first canonical hour 
(sunrise, or, conventionally, six), but the term was applied to the period 
running to tierce, and the close of this period, nine o'clock, was called " high 
prime." 

4402-4403. The romance of Lancelot, describing his youth in a realm of 
the other world in the care of the Lady of the Lake and his love for Guine- 
vere, forms part of the Arthurian cycle, and was one of the most famous and 
widely read courtly romances. 

4405. coif ox. Literally "coal-fox"; compare 1. 4094 f. 

4417-4419. Chaucer adduces other traitorous " homicides " — Judas Iscariot, 
who betrayed Christ; Ganelon, in the Song of Roland^ who betrayed Roland, 
the most famous of the twelve peers of Charlemagne; Sinon, who persuaded 
the Trojans to bring the wooden horse into Troy, that led to its downfall. 

4424-4441. Chaucer touches lightly here on a theological question which 
was the subject of bitter debate, predestination as over against absolute free 
will and salvation by merit. Augustine is the great St. Augustine of the 
fourth century. Thomas Bradwardine, Professor and Chancellor of Oxford, 
and Archbishop of Canterbury, a contemporary of Chaucer, in his De Causa 
Dei Contra Pelagium, opposed the Pelagian "heresy" of absolute free will. 



NOTES 177 

" Boece " or Boethius (see HF. 972, note) discusses free will at length (Book V, 
prose 3). The question is one of the few, if not the only, purely theological 
question in which Chaucer discloses an interest (compare Trollies, iv, 960 ff.). 
It is a main theme in the beautiful Pea7'l by a contemporary of Chaucer. 

4430. The figure is drawn from the sifting of grain after grinding till all 
the good flour is separated from the bran. 

4435. simple necessitee. Single necessity, unconditional necessity, that 
is, absolute predestination, as distinguished from "necessitee condicionel" 
(1. 4440), or conditional necessity, which assumes limited freedom of the will. 

4451. counseil. Object of bla77ie. 

4461. The Latin Physiologus of Theobaldus is referred to, one of numerous 
physiologi or bestiaries, which treat of fabulous habits and traits of animals, 
followed by an allegorical application in illustration and enforcement of 
Christian doctrine. The physiologus originated among Greek Christians (prob- 
ably in Alexandria) and was widely popular in the Orient, in Africa, and 
throughout Europe. There is an Old English Physiologus, and one in Middle 
English based on Theobald's. The reference here is to the section "De 
Sirenis." 

4484. In reference to the De Musica of Boethius; compare HF. ii, 789, note. 

4502-4506. Burnel, an ass, is the hero of the famous satire of Nigel Wireker 
of Canterbury, Burnellus, or Speculum Stultoruvi, on monastic and other 
abuses of his time (twelfth century). -It is a characteristic stroke of Chaucer's 
humor that he makes the fox quote the work as if by Burnel (a fellow animal), 
though Burnel is only its hero; also, at the same time, it may be added, 
achieving a pleasantry at the expense of the real author by their implied iden- 
tification. The story in full is that the cock gets his revenge for the injury 
done him by crowing so late that the "priest's son," Gundulfus, does not 
wake up in time for his ordination, and so loses the benefice promised him. 

4519. Ecclesiaste. The apochryphal Ecclesiasticus, xii. 

4524. Skeat notes that the second son of Reynard in the beast-epic of 
Reynard the Fox is called Rosseel. 

4529. hemes. Where they perched at night. Compare 11. 4074, 4362. 

4536. Our word Friday is due to an early translation of the Latin dies 
Veneris, day of (the planet) Venus, with substitution of the Teutonic goddess 
Frigg (using her Scandinavian name), wife of Odin, for Venus. See N.E.D. 

4537-4541. Gaufred. Geoffrey de Vinsauf, who, in his Nova Poetria, 
included the lament for Richard I referred to, which Chaucer's ironical 
praise justly ridicules. 

4547-4549. ^neid, ii. 550-553. 

4553-4558. Hasdrubal, king of Carthage, killed himself when the Romans 
burned Carthage, B.C. 146, and his wife, with her two sons, burned themselves. 



178 



CHAUCER 



4584-4586. The massacre of a number of Flemish merchants, objected to 
as alien competitors, was an incident of the troubles connected with the peas- 
ants' revolts in the so-called "rebellion of Jack Straw" in 1381. Skeat cites 
Walsingham in reference to the " clamor horrendissimus " of the rebels. 

4635. my Lord. The Archbishop of Canterbury, the primate of England. 

The Pardoner's Tale 
[C. 661-968] 

[The character of the Pardoner (p. 21) and the note upon it (p. 162) 
should be read before reading the Tale. 

The prologue, in which this witty scoundrel tells of the arts he uses — by 
which Chaucer brings to instant judgment the abuse by which he and his 
fellows profit — admirable though it is, is too long for inclusion; its jeering 
irony is sufficiently illustrated by the passage with which the Tale concludes. 
But no volume of selections from Chaucer would be complete without the Tale 
itself, which the Pardoner extracts from his stock of exernpla, — anecdotes, 
that is, with which the medieval preacher larded his discourse. 

In the first place, the story is one of the highest intrinsic merit. In the 
second place, it possesses a special historic interest in that it is of great an- 
tiquity; in that it is found in many versions throughout the East, where it 
originated, and throughout Europe; in that it has been retold in modern 
times by Leigh Hunt and, from some Eastern version, by Kipling under the 
title "The King's Ancus" in the Second Jungle Book; and in that it will be 
undoubtedly told again in the future. In its historical relations, the tale of 
the Wife of Bathy with its many analogues and train of modern derivatives, 
is its only rival. In the third place, Chaucer has told it with the brevity and 
graphic force, — using the "impressionistic" method, as some would call 
it, — which its substance permits and enjoins. The figure of the old man, 
knocking upon the ground with his staff to be let in by Mother Earth, is left 
wholly unexplained and yet wholly explained; the very simplicity of the 
means employed, as in Hawthorne's stories, conveys a most convincing and 
impressive sense of the supernatural. In this incident Chaucer attained the 
highest range of imaginative art. 

As an illustration of the wide variety of versions, and also of Chaucer's art 
in the special form which he gives his version, two variants of the story may 
be given; those who wish information concerning its Persian, Arabic, Thi- 
betan, and European forms may consult Clouston's monograph published by 
the Chaucer Society. In a Buddhist version in the Vedabbha Jdtaka^ two 
robbers, having come by a treasure, conceal it, and one remains to watch it, 
while the other takes rice to a village to get it cooked. When he returns, 



NOTES 179 

the robber who remains on guard slays him, eats of the rice, and himself falls 
dead. In the Italian version of the Cento Novelle, which in minor details 
shows resemblances to Chaucer's and is doubtless connected with his original 
somewhat closely, a hermit, finding a store of gold in a cave, runs from it, 
and on his way meets three robbers. They ask him why he is running, and 
he says that Death is chasing him. They bid him show them Death, and he 
takes them to the cave. They call him a fool, and plan what they shall do. 
The rest of the story is substantially as in Chaucer. Chaucer's original is not 
known, but one is tempted to believe that the incident of the old man, as he 
tells it, is wholly his own.] 

664. belle. The bell carried and rung before the body during a funeral. 

679. this pestilence. See Prologuey A. 443, note. Boccaccio's story-tellers 
in the Decajiieron are refugees from the plague in a villa near Florence. 

681-683. These lines make one think of the morality of Everyman, 

692. Goddes armes. Oaths by the body or parts of the body of God or 
Christ were common for centuries (compare zounds from "God's wounds! "). 
Hence, in sermons against swearing, it is said that users of such oaths rent 
Christ's body anew. Compare 1. 709, and at the beginning of the tale, 11. 
472 ff. (in the portion omitted in this volume) : — 

Their oaths are so great and so worthy of condemnation, 
That it is grisly for to hear them swear ; 
Our blessed Lord's body they tear asunder ; 
They think the Jews rent him not enough. 

697-704. See A. 1 131, note. 

709. See note on 1. 692. 

713. old man. The " old man " corresponds to the hermit of the Italian 
story. But, as Skeat notes, Chaucer, in making him seek Death, instead of 
fleeing from him, like the hermit, adds greatly to the impressiveness of the 
incident. See also the prefatory note. 

727-733. Kittredge has pointed out that these lines are imitated from the 
first elegy of Maximian. 

729. modres. The earth as mother {genetrix in Maximian) of all things. 

734. cheste. The chest which stood in the medieval bedchamber for 
storing a person's most valued possessions. 

736. heyre clout. A hair-cloth rag (for a shroud). 

743-744. Agayns. In the presence of. The text is " Coram cano capitey 
consurgey^ "Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head," Leviticus, xix, 32. 

770. The English florin was worth 6s. Sd. As Skeat points out, the men- 
tion of florins is in keeping with the Italian character of the story. 

781. " Lightly come, lightly go." 

793. See A. 835, note. 



i8o CHAUCER 

819. " Shall it be secret between us?" 

866. "Than thou would'st go in walking no more than a mile"; that is, 
twenty minutes, at three miles to the hour, the usual reckoning. 
871. of. Not in manuscripts. Skeat's emendation. 

889. Avicen. Avicenna; see A. 432. 

890. Avicenna's Book of the Canon in Medicine is divided into books 
and "fens" in the Latin version, /^;^ being the Axd^hic fa nn, "class," hence, 
"section." Skeat notes that Chaucer assumes canon to be used in its ordinary 
sense of " rule," whereas it is the title of the whole of Avicena's work as a 
comprehensive treatment of its subject. , 

895-945- Some critics have assumed that the Pardoner forgets himself, and 
proceeds to exhort his hearers seriously at the close, as if one of his usual 
audiences. But the spirit of the passage is the same as the prologue — one 
of jesting irony. 

The House of Fame 

[The general character of the House of Fame, and the fact that it remotely 
represents the influence of Dante, have been briefly touched upon in the 
Introduction, p. xxii. Though a love vision in form and intention, it is far 
from being conventional in spirit or substance. It has an additional interest 
in that, in it, Chaucer is at a farther remove from his sources than usual, 
combines elements of dissimilar kinds to a new unity, achieves originality in 
invention, where elsewhere his originality is one of superiority of treatment. 
In the Squire'' s Tale we have, possibly, the beginning of what is practically 
an original invention, but, unfortunately, that tale is only just begun and no 
more. 

The second book is selected for this volume despite the picture of the sup- 
plicants before the throne of Fame and the fascinating wicker house which 
give distinction to the third book. The description of Chaucer's journey to 
the skies in the claws of the eagle, and his converse with that pragmatical and 
condescending bird, is one of the most striking and delightful illustrations of 
the poet's humor; also it is hoped that the reader will be led by his interest 
in adventures so auspiciously begun to read for himsekf the third book instead 
of the abstract furnished. 

The four-stress couplet used in the poem was also used in the Book of the 
Duchess. Later, he gave up this verse for the five-beat line in stanzas in 
Troilus and Cressida and elsewhere, and in the famous " heroic couplet " of 
the Legend of Good Women and the Canterbury Tales. 

Into the fascinating subject of the sources of the eagle as " helpful animal " 
(see the notes), and of the whirling house of wickerwork, in folklore and 
fiterature, there is no space to go here. For this and for other information 



NOTES i8i 

concerning the poem, the reader is referred to the invaluable monograph of 
W. O. Sypherd, Studies on Chaucer^ s Bouse of Fame, Chaucer Society, 2d 
Series, 39.] 

488. Libye. Libya. 

501. Chaucer had several excellent precedents for his use of the eagle as 
the means by which he is carried in his vision to the upper air. He knew 
the story of Ganymede (see 1. 589), the beautiful youth who was borne to 
heaven by Jupiter himself in the form of an eagle. He may have known one 
of the legendary adventures of Alexander in which Alexander is transported 
to the upper air on an eagle's back; Alexander is mentioned in 1. 915 as 
having visited the upper air, but Chaucer may merely have known of another 
account (in the Wars of Alexander^ 1. 5523; see Skeat's note) in which the 
carrying was done in a car borne by griffins. 

In the Purgatory (ix, 19 ff.) Dante dreams that he is snatched up by an 
eagle to the orb of fire, and Chaucer uses the passage (see below). Also, in 
folk tales, birds or other animals frequently carry persons on journeys, or 
otherwise help them in various ways. 

In the poem the eagle, as the bird of Jove, serves as Jove's messenger 
(11. 605 ff.) to convey Chaucer to the House of Fame, he serves as his guide 
(a guide or conductor, or person with whom a conversation is held, is a 
traditional feature in the use of the dream as a literary mode), and in the 
third book of the poem he acts as the "helpful animal" in enabling him to 
enter the revolving house of twigs. See Sypherd's admirable discussion, 
with much fresh and interesting material, in his monograph referred to in the 
prefatory note. 

For the description of the eagle and his descent upon the poet (11. 496-508, 
534-544), Chaucer is indebted in certain details to Dante (^Purgatory, ix, 
19 ff). The passage in Longfellow's translation (used also in later references 
below) is as follows : — 

In dreams it seemed to me I saw suspended 

An eagle in the sky with plumes of gold, 

With wings wide open, and intent to stoop ; 
And this, it seemed to me, was where had been 

By Ganymede his kith and kin abandoned, 

When to the high consistory he was rapt. 

I thought within myself, perchance he strikes 

From habit only here, and from elsewhere 

Disdains to bear up any in his feet. 
Then wheelmg somewhat more, it seemed to me, 

Terrible as the lightnmg he d scended 

And snatched me upward even to the fire. 



i82 CHAUCER 

514-516. Chaucer appropriately cites famous dreamers of antiquity. Three 
are from the Bible — Isaiah (see Isaiah, chapters i, vi), Nebuchadnezzar 
(Daniel, chapters ii, iv), and Pharaoh (Genesis, chapter xli). Turnus in the 
j^neid (ix, 6) was visited in a dream by Iris as the messenger of Juno. 
The dream of Scipio is related in the Somnuim Scipionis, originally a part 
of Cicero's De Republican but known only as preserved in a commentary 
upon it by Macrobius. This work had great celebrity in the Middle Ages. 
Chaucer refers to it five times, gives an abstract of it in the -proem to the 
Parliament of Birds^ and indeed there represents Scipio as serving as his 
own guide. The work relates how younger Scipio Africanus, having talked 
with Massinissa, king of Numidia, concerning his adoptive grandfather, 
Scipio Africanus the elder, dreamed that the great Africanus showed him 
(compare 1. 916) from the height of heaven Carthage and the earth, the nine 
spheres (see A. 2987^ note) ; caused him to hear the " harmony of spheres " 
(each sphere having its characteristic note blending with those of the others) ; 
and discoursed to him of immortality and other high matters. 

The unfamiliarity of the form of many proper names in Anglo-Saxon and 
Middle English literature, here illustrated, is due to their transferal, directly, 
or with slight changes, from foreign sources. Nabugodonosor is from the 
Nabuchodonosor of the Vulgate, Joves (1. 586) is a French nominative form, 
Parnaso (1. 521) is the Italian ParnasOy Elicon (1. 522) is from the Italian 
Elicona. 

513. selly. The manuscripts read sely. This and other helpful emenda- 
tions of the poem are due to Skeat. 

518. faire blisful. Fair, blissful one. Cipris. Cyprian ; that is, Venus, 
so called because of her temple, and the special worship paid her, in Cyprus. 

520. ye. The Muses, fabled to dwell with Apollo in Mount Parnassus 
(1. 521) in central Greece. Chaucer, in invoking the Muses and Thought, 
imitates Dante {Inferno, ii, 7-9) : — 

O Muses, O high genius, now assist me ! 

O memory, that didst write down what I saw. 

Here thy nobility should be manifest. 

522. Elicon. Properly a mountain in Boeotia, sacred to the Muses, but 
misinterpreted by Chaucer as a fountain owing to a passage in Dante (" Now 
Helicon must needs pour forth for me," Purgatory, xxix, 40). This reference 
of Chaucer's led through Skelton and Spenser to frequent references to Heli- 
con as a fountain in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. 

562. Chaucer here no doubt refers humorously to his wife's voice as un- 
welcome (so even the dearest voice may be) when calling him in the morning. 
The passage, absurdly enough, has been cited as evidence that they were not 
happy together. 



NOTES 183 

588-592. Chaucer now appropriately refers to famous persons translated 
to heaven: Enoch (Genesis, v, 24), Elijah (2 Kings, ii, 11), Romulus (Ovid, 
Metamorphoses J xiv, 824), and Ganymede (Ovid, Metamorphoses, x, 160). 
Holthausen {Anglia, xvi, 265) cites a passage in the Ecloga Thoduli, where 
Enoch, Elias, and Ganymede are spoken of together. He thinks Chaucer 
must have known it, as it says that to Ganymede was given the title oipincerna, 
** cupbearer, butler," which Hebe before possessed, whence Chaucer's phrase 
"the goddes boteler," 1. 592. 

As Bell notes, Chaucer is not making fun in calling Ganymede the gods* 
butler. It was the medieval custom for young men of rank to carve and serve 
wine in their fathers' or other houses where they received their training. The 
name of Butler, he points out, is borne by one of the noble familes of England, 
and Skeat instances the royal name Stuart, meaning steward. We may recall 
that the Squire in the Prologue " carved before his father at the table." 

615. Chaucer might truly represent himself as having served Cupid atten- 
tively through his love poems. No doubt we have only a part of his poems 
written in deference to the sentimental code of love service in fashion in his 
day. But we may be sure his devotion to this theme had, at all times, no doubt, 
a touch of lightness and mockery — and, later, after writing the Troilus and 
Cressida, he describes himself in the Legend of Good Women as rebuked by 
the god for having written in love's dispraise. 

618. Skeat's emendation. 

623. One meaning of cadence with reference to verse (see Skeat's note, and 
the Oxford Dictionary, s.v. cadence^ is a certain harmonious quality of rhyth- 
mical flow. But this is not the sense here. The passage demands a meaning 
of a kind to be set off against rime. A chapter of Puttenham's Arte of Eng- 
lish Poesie, II ch. vii (viii) (Arber, 1869, p. 93) affords the key. Pime here 
means concord of the concluding syllables or monosyllables of lines (as man, 
can, 509, 510 ; aright, might, 527, 528), cadence, the concord of two or more 
syllables {inette, shette, 523, 524, dissimulaciouns, reparaciouns, 687, 688). 

632-660. Chaucer here describes his life at the time the poem was written 
— his busy days at the customs followed by evenings spent among his books. 
This and certain other passages have been used to force an allegorical sig- 
nificance into the poem as an expression of bitterness at a mode of life which 
prevents his realization of poetic fame. But this view is a mistaken one, 
and has been finally and conclusively disposed of by Sypherd. The tone 
of the poem throughout is one of gayety and good humor. 

681. A proverbial expression. A person may fall as unexpectedly by acci- 
dent (" casually ") into love, as a blind man walking in the fields may start 
up a hare. 

683. of stele. "True as steel.'* 



1 84 CHAUCER 

689-691. "And more beards made (dressed) in two hours." The phrase 
** to make a person's beard," in origin French and Italian, means to trick or 
outwit him. 

695. love-dayes. See A. 285, note. 

703. pyes. Magpies, as being proverbial for their noisy chatter, and as 
repeating, when taught to speak, what they happen to hear. ' 

712-715. Ovid, referred to as Chaucer's " owne book," because he quotes it 
continually, or perhaps, as Skeat says truly is probable, because he owned a 
copy. The passage concerning the House of Fame is in the Metamorphoses^ 
xii, 39-63. Ovid describes its position thus : 

Orbe locus medio est inter terrasque fretumque 
Coelestesque plagas, tnplicis confinia mundi. 

724. " Go," as often in Middle English, is omitted after " must." 

725. The explanation of the eagle which follows possesses interest as an 
illustration of medieval science, but this counts for little as compared with 
one's enjoyment of Chaucer's humor. The solemnity and pomposity of the 
eagle, his condescension and anxiety to make his point clear to the ignorant 
person he is carrying, his repetition of the word "kyndly" and obvious 
satisfaction in the way it cleans up all difficulties, are irresistible. 

729. The theory of the inclination of everything in nature to move to an 
appointed place in obedience to its nature, often adduced in medieval science, 
Chaucer takes from Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy ^hoo^i iii, prose 11, 
(see note on 1. 972) together with the illustrations used in proof of it. Skeat, 
who points out this passage, also cites Dante's reference to the theory when 
Beatrice explains to the poet how it was possible for him, in fulfillment, not as 
w^ould seem in contradiction, of natural law, to be raised to Paradise {Paradisoy 
i, 109) : — . 

In the order that I speak of are inclined 

All natures, by their destinies diverse, 

More or less near unto their origin ; 
Hence they move onward unto ports diverse 

O'er the great sea of being ; and each one 

With instinct given it which bears it. on. 

759. It is often assumed that Chaucer here mentions Aristotle and Plato 
merely at large as impressive names. But both are cited with a purpose — 
cf. Aristotle, De Coelo, IV, 3, and Plato, Timaus (Stevens), p. 63, B-E. 

789. Skeat points out that Chaucer derived this illustration either directly, 
or through Vincent de Beauvais in his Speculum Naturale (xxxv, 58), from 
Boethius, in his treatise De Musica (i, 14). 



NOTES 185 

827. the mansioun. Skeat's admirable emendation for stirn place stide^ 
soni styde, some stede ; see 11. 754, 831. 

846. See note on 11. 712-715. 

868. biles. The learned bird speaks in character, it will be seen ; so 
also top and tail, 880, may here have a special humorous appropriateness. 

872. Skeat's emendation. 

888. Dante, Faradiso, xxiii, 128 : — 

Look down once more, and see how vast a world 
Thou hast already put beneath thy feet. 

896. gan. The manuscripts read^^w to or to ; Skeat's emendation. 

911. toun. Skeat's emendation for token. Cf. 1. 890. 

915. Alexander Macedo. Alexander of Macedon. See 1. 501, note. 

gi6. king. One like a king, kingly leader of men. See 1. 501, note. 

919-924. The familiar story in classical mythology of the escape of Daedalus 
and his son from Crete. 

929-934. Skeat has explained Chaucer's use of the word citizein with refer- 
ence to the " eyrish bestes " as borrowed from the Latin poem Anticlaudianus 
of Alanus de Insulis (cited 1. 986), who makes a similarly curious use of cives 
in the phrases vagantes aerios cives, " airy citizens as they wander " (in which 
aerios suggested eyrish, and vagantes line 934) and Hie cives habitant., " Here 
the citizens dwell," which corresponds to lines 929-930 (Wright Anglo- Latin 
Satirical Poets, '^^t^, 3^0). 

In the second of these passages Alanus speaks of the " republic of the sky," 
and Skeat thinks this with the use of the word citizein was sufficient to bring 
Plato's Republic to Chaucer's mind, whereupon, with the delight in citing 
authorities characteristic of medieval authors, the poet at once made an off- 
hand reference to him. The real fact is, however, that Chaucer is justified in 
quoting Plato, because of Plato's description of the heavens in the myth of Er 
in the tenth book of the Republic, of which Chaucer could have learned possibly 
in some commentary on the first meter of book iv of Boethius (from which he 
quotes, 11. 973 ff.), which goes back to Plato. 

932. eyrish bestes. The constellations, as including many beasts (compare 
11. 1004 ff.). 

934. Bothe goon and also flee. " Both walk and fly " — as there are both 
beasts and birds. 

936-939. the Galaxy. The Milky Way. The Greek name Galaxy, and 
the Latin Via Lactia of which the English name is a translation (first recorded 
in this passage according to the N. E. D. D.v. Galaxy') have primary reference 
to its whiteness, but in many countries its likeness to a way or road has caused the 
names of wfcll-known or imaginary roads to be applied to it — for example, in 



1 86 CHAUCER 

Italy, **the Roman road" {la strada di Roind)^ and, in England, "Watling 
Street " after the Great Roman Road stretching from Dover by London to 
Chester and beyond. 

940-959. Chaucer follows Ovid, Metamorphoses^ ii, 32-328, in telling the 
familiar story hovi^ Phaethon drove the chariot of the sun in place of his 
father Phoebus. 

948. Scorpioun. The Scorpion, a constellation and one of the signs of the 
Zodiac. 

666-969. Perhaps suggested, as Skeat notes, by a passage in the Anticlau- 
diamis in which Alanus (see 1. 986, note) speaks of the clouds, waters, hail, 
winds, and thunder as formed in the airy expanse of the sky. 

972. Boece. Boethius, the famous Roman philosopher (born circa 480, 
died 524) was imprisoned by Theodoric as one of the members of the Senate 
who were endeavoring to restore the ancient liberties of Rome. In his 
prison he wrote the Consolation of Philosophy, a work which exercised a pro- 
found influence throughout Europe in medieval and even into modern times. 
King Alfred, Chaucer himself, and Queen Elizabeth are numbered among its 
English translators, and Chaucer cites from him frequently. Chaucer in his 
translation renders the passage here paraphrased as follows (book iv, metre i : 
from Skeat's edition) : " I have, forsothe, swifte fetheres that surmounten the 
heighte of hevene. Whan the swifte thought hath clothed it-self in the 
fetheres, it despyseth the hateful erthes, and surmounteth the roundnesse of 
the grete ayr; and it seeth the cloudes behinde his bak." 

985. Marcian. Martian, a Latin satirist of the fifth century, treated as- 
tronomy among the seven sciences in his De Nuptiis Philologice et Mercuri, 

986. Alanus de Insulis (died 1205) was author of two works cited by 
Chaucer, the Anticlaudianus here referred to (compare notes on 1. 929-934, 
966-969) and the De Planctu Natures, to which there is a reference in the 
Parliament of Birds, 

992-999. Chaucer's interest in astronomy has been referred to above (see 
A. 8, note). The eagle's offer and Chaucer's refusal are, of course, only in- 
troduced to give liveliness to his light and humorous description of his journey. 
The reference to his age is merely in joke, but the passage has been used in 
arguments concerning both the date of his birth and the date of the poem. 
He was nearing the age of forty if the poem is to be set, as seems probably 
right, in the late seventies. 

1003. him or here. The mythical personages, of both sexes, among the 
constellations. 

1004-1007. Chaucer drew much of his knowledge concerning the constel- 
lations, probably, from the Fasti of his favorite poet Ovid. The constellations 
here referred to are Corvus, the Crow or " Raven," placed in heaven, Ovid 



NOTES 187 

says, with the Serpent and the Goblet, because when sent by Phoebus to get 
water he delayed that he might enjoy the fruit of a fig tree when it ripened 
and then returned with a serpent, which he said was the cause of his delay; 
Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, the Great and the Little Bear, not mentioned by 
Ovid, the stars of which are more familiar to Americans as forming the Dip- 
per ; Lyra, the lyre of the famous harper of classical mythology, Arion ; 
Gemini, representing the twins. Castor and Pollux, the sons of Jupiter and 
Leda ; Delphinus, the Dolphin, placed in the sky either because he saved 
Arion when Arion leapt from a ship to escape from the sailors who would 
have taken his life as well as his treasure, or, as Ovid also tells, because of 
help rendered to Neptune ; and the Pleiades, the seven daughters of Atlas 
and Pleione. The form of the name Atlas which Chaucer uses, Athalartte, 
Skeat explains as due to misunderstanding of the ablative, Atlante^ in Ovid 
(book v, 1. %^^ but Chaucer is more probably using the Italian form. 

1021. up the heed. "Up with your head." 

1022. St. Julian, according to the legend concerning him, in penance for 
having accidentally slain his parents, established a house for wayfarers near 
a dangerous ford, and thus became the patron saint of travelers and of hos- 
pitality. Compare the Prologue, 1. 340. The line perhaps represents a cur- 
rent exclamation of travelers on nearing an inn. 

1034. Peter. St. Peter. The name is used as an exclamation in the same 
way as that of St. Julian above, and of St. Clare below. 

1066. Saint Clare (1191-1253) was an Italian saint, a disciple of St. 
Francis and founder of the Order of Poor Clares. 



A Treatise of the Astrolabe 

Prologus 

[The following example of Chaucer's prose is selected because it is wholly 
his own and not a translation or adaptation, and also because of the charm- 
ing way in which he dedicates his treatise to the use of his little ten-year-old 
son Louis. Of Louis nothing is known. He may have been in the Oxford 
schools, as the astrolabe his father gave him was of the latitude of Oxford. 
The date assumed for the treatise is 1 391, as that date enters into two of the 
solutions of problems. 

The astrolabe was an instrument for taking altitudes and for the solution 
of astronomical problems. It varied in form as adapted to special uses, and 
through elaboration as the knowledge of astronomy increased. It consisted 
essentially of a heavy plate of metal attached by a swivel to a ring which per- 
mitted it to hang from the thumb in a perpendicular position. The "back" 



1 88 CHAUCER 

was inscribed with graduated circles for the quadrants, signs of the zodiac, 
days of the year, months, and saints' days. Over this, on a central pin, re- 
volved the "ruler," a metal bar fitted with sights for taking altitudes. The 
"front" of the plate had a thick rim with graduated circles for the hours and 
for the quadrant ; the part of the plate within the rim bore circles for the 
tropics and the equinoctial, and in addition subsidiary rings or plates could 
be fitted within the depression indicating the position of important stars. At 
the front a bar called the "label" revolved on the central pin. By means of 
this instrument, with its additional appliances, a number of astronomical prob- 
lems could be solved, for example, the degree of the zodiac for a special day, 
altitude of the sun, hour of the day, duration of twilight, declination of de- 
grees in the zodiac, latitude of a place by the altitude of the Pole-star, etc. 
See for a detailed description, Skeat, Works of Geoffrey Chaucer , 3, Ixxiii ff. 

The body of the treatise seems to be taken from Messahala, an Arabian 
astronomer, in a Latin version, or from some intermediate version. 

Chaucer's interest in astronomy and love for astronomical references has 
already been referred to, see A. 8, HF., 992-999, notes.] 

1. Possibly Cicero, Laelius, cap. xiii, according to Skeat. But the passage 
cited bears only a general resemblance to Chaucer's quotation. 

2. Skeat explains that in Louis's instrument the circles of altitude were 
drawn at distances of two degrees, whereas in better instruments they were 
drawn at intervals of one degree. 

3. The five parts gave, or were to have given (we have not the whole, 
despite numerous manuscripts still extant) (i) a description of the instru- 
ment, (2) the method of using it, (3) tables of latitude and longitude of fixed 
stars, etc., (4) a description of the motions of the moon and other heavenly 
bodies, (5) a statement of the general rules of astronomical theory, with tables 
of equations of houses, dignities of planets, and other useful things. 

Chaucer's Words unto Adam his own Scrivener 

[This epigram, addressed in remonstrance to Adam his scrivener, or copyist, 
by Chaucer, gives one a graphic idea of the vexations of the medieval author 
consequent upon the reproduction of his works by hand. When one reflects 
that the only way to insure faithfulness in the copies produced under the 
author's oversight was for the author personally to go over each copy, the 
labors attending the correction of modern proof sheets for an indefinite number 
of copies pale to nothing by comparison. 

The extant manuscripts of Chaucer's works afford ample testimony of the 
" negligence and haste," the blundering ignorance, and the unwarrantab'e 
alterations of many of the copyists. One scarcely wonders, for even with 



NOTES 189 

the most conscientious care it is a difficult thing to make a faithful copy, or to 
insure accuracy even in a printed text — witness the numerous errors that 
have crept into the works of modern poets.] 

2. The reference to the Boethius and to Troilus and Cressida seems to 
indicate that the epigram was written shortly after the production of these 
works. 

6. Chaucer has been forced not merely to correct it as it stands, but even 
to make erasures for the necessary corrections. 

To Rosamund. A Balade 

[Chaucer, we know, wrote many brief love poems. Some of those which 
are still extant, while showing his usual technical skill, are conventional in 
conception and expression. This balade, however, is different. It is a bit of 
playful gallantry, conceived in the spirit of what we now call, rather unfortu- 
nately, " society verse." The poet does full justice to the charms of Rosa- 
mund, and pays her very pretty compliments, which are intended to please 
her; but, while representing himself as overwhelmed by her charms despite 
her indifference, he roguishly makes fun of it all by his exaggerations and 
amusing comparisons in 11. 9, 17, 20. 

The poem is in the French form of the balade. Note that three rimes only 
run through all three stanzas in a fixed order, and that each stanza ends with 
the same line, called the " refrain." There is no " envoy," or conventional 
concluding stanza of special form, as is customary (see the Co?nplainl to His 
Empty Purse below), Chaucer was also fond of another French poem form, 
the roundel. These and other French forms (for example, the rondeau and 
villanelle) have been revived by modern English poets, under French inspira- 
tion, both for light and serious verse; see the works of Swinburne and 
especially Austin Dobson, and the collection Ballades, Roundels, etc, made 
by Gleason White. 

1. Madame. Three syllables. 

2. mappemounde. Maps of the world were not only drawn in books and 
in the form of charts, but also depicted in large paintings in round form to 
hang upon the wall. The so-called Round Table of King Arthur in Win- 
chester may originally have been a *' mappemounde." The word supplies 
Chaucer with an excellent and piquant rime. 

II. out-twyne. Untwine, spin out; a dehghtful word to express Rosa- 
mund's charming (no doubt coquettish) way of consciously modulating her 
voice. 

20. Tristram. The hero of the famous romance Tristram and Iseult, one 
of the most famous lovers of medieval tradition. 



1 90 



CHAUCER 



The Complaint of Chaucer to His Empty Purse 



[Chaucer was often embarrassed for money, as anticipation of his pen- 
sions at various times proves. This poem may have been written earlier, as 
Skeat thinks (see 1. 17, note), but the envoy to Henry IV, to whom Chaucer 
might with confidence apply as the son of his special patron and, probably, 
kinsman by marriage, John of Gaunt, was certainly written in 1399, when 
Henry came to the throne (see 1. 22 note). Chaucer's plea, as its delightful 
humor merited, produced the desired effect; the king made him a grant, in 
addition to the pensions he had, of forty marks yearly, which, unfortunately, 
the poet did not long enjoy, as he died in the following year. The envoy, if 
not the whole poem, is the last work, possibly, which we have from Chaucer's 
hand.] 

4. Note the delightful play on words in the phrase " hevy chere." 

16. as . . . here. " So far as this world is concerned." 

17. toune. The meaning is not quite clear (though, as Skeat notes, it 
seems to be, ** Help me out of this [expensive] town,") because of the con- 
nection of this line with 1. 18 following. It would seem as if the lines meant 
that, as the purse was not willing to act as his treasurer, i.e. provide him with 
money, it must itself help him out of town by being pawned. If this is so, it 
would be a further support for Skeat's inference from 11. 8, 17, that the 
poem was written earlier in the poet's life in some special emergency, and 
was merely adapted by additon of the envoy for voicing his plea to Henry. 

22-24. Albion is a traditional name for England in the old histories and 
chronicles following Geoffrey of Monmouth. Geoffrey, on the basis of earlier 
histories (of Nennius and his predecessors) and Celtic tradition, told the 
reputed early history of Britian with the intent to make of Arthur a great 
king worthy of comparison with, and indeed greater than, Charlemagne, the 
central figure of early French history and romance. According to Celtic tradi- 
tion Brutus, the great grandson of ^neas, forced to leave Italy because of his 
having accidentally killed his father, landed in Britian and with his follower 
gave rise to the Britons, the land and the people taking their names from his. 
This tradition was adopted by the English of mixed race after the Con- 
quest, and became a part of orthodox English tradition. It was as welcome 
a belief to them, as to the Celts, that they could claim relationship with the 
famous Trojan line. The name of Brutus became in French and English, as 
here. Brut or Brute, and as the founder of the British race, gave title to 
chronicles in French and English, as, for example, the Roman de Brut of 
Wace and the Brut of Layamon. 

Henry IV was a conqueror of England only as having usurped the crown. 
He certainly was not true king " by line," having no hereditary right to the 



NOTES 191 

throne, though he was by " election " of Parliament. As Parliament con- 
firmed his title on September 30, and the grant to Chaucer was made 
October 3, the envoy can be dated, as Skeat says, almost to a day. 

Truth 

Balade of Good Counsel 

[There are many passages throughout Chaucer that show the ethical 
soundness and wholesomeness of Chaucer's nature, his respect for what is 
honest and right, his wisdom both worldly and unworldly. In this Balade of 
Good Counsel, to give it its proper name, Chaucer sums his experience of life, 
the refuge against the sleights of fortune and the slants of envy to be found in 
contentment with what is one's own " though it be small," the uselessness of 
trying to redress all that is wrong, the gospel, all-sufficing, of doing one's own 
work well, — whatever it may be, — fleeing the ambitions of the crowd and 
dwelling with truth, holding the highway and following the leading of the 
spirit, since this world is not home, but is only wilderness. It has often been 
pointed out that, because Chaucer was so truly an artist, he was no reformer. 
As Root has well added of this noble poem ( The Poetry of Chaucer, p. 30) 
and its " Cathohc " temper, " Reformers may rail at this spirit as they please, 
but they cannot prove that it is weak or base." 

No direct source for the poem as a whole or in part has been found. 
There are certain similarities to passages in Boethius, but the resemblance is 
so remote as to be hardly worth noting.] 

2. Suffice unto thy good. It seems only right to follow the reading of the 
majority of the manuscripts, as Skeat does, though the phrase is without 
parallels or analogies. The sense is plain from the following line, '* Let thy 
goods, or wealth, suffice thee," or, more closely, " Let your life suffice you in 
proportion to your goods," that is, as Skeat says, " Cut your coat according to 
your cloth." 

6. that. "Thou that." So similarly in 1. 13. 

7. Compare John, viii, 32, "The truth shall make you free." Delivere is 
used absolutely with the indirect object understood, "grant deliverance." 

II. sporne ageyn an al. Compare the biblical " kick against the pricks." 
ig. "Know thy true country; look up, thank God for all." 
22. The envoy is in only one manuscript, but, as Skeat says, there is no 
reason to doubt its genuineness, vache. Skeat explains this rather strange 
term of reproach as carrying out the metaphor in 1. 18, and as an allusion to 
the fact that the cow, characteristically, is continually looking towards the 
earth instead of the sky. Chaucer may have been led to its use also because 
of the comparison by Boethius of various types of wicked men to animals. 



I 



GLOSSARY 



[This Glossary includes (as is usual in volumes of Chaucer) only words 
and senses which are not readily recognizable. It was also thought advisable 
to include all proper names (except those familiarly known). 

A single reference is given under each word to its first occurrence, that the 
student may check his command of a vocabulary. The references to the 
Cante7'bMry Tales are by group and line (see the Introduction, p. xxx). The 
other abbreviations used are HF, House of Fame ; TA, Treatise of the Astro- 
labe ; Adam, Chaucer* s Words to Adam ; Comp. Purse, Complaint of Chaucer 
to his Empty Purse. 

As explained in the Preface, there is no point in indicating the parts of 
speech, or adding scattered etymological notes. All that is necessary is to 
give a list of forms under certain verbs.] 



a, ah ! oh ! A 1078. 

abiden, abyden (pret. abood^y await, 

A 927. 
abood, waiting, delay, A 965. 
aboughte, paid for, atoned for, A 2303. 
abreyden, awake, arouse, HF 559. 
abyden, see abideij. 
abyen, atone for, pay for, C 756. 
achat, purchase, buying, A 571. 
achatour, buyer, caterer, steward, A 

568. 
acorden, agree, assent, A 818. 
Adoun, Adonis, A 2224. 
adrad, adread, HF 928. 
advertence, attention, HF 709. 
affray, affright, HF 553. 
affrayed, frightened, B 4468. 
affylen, file, polish, A 712. 
afounde, foundered, lamed. To Rose- 

mounde, 21. 
ago, gone, A 2802. 
al, awl. Truth, 1 1, 
al, altogether, A 248; al be, although, 

A 297. 



no 



all. 



al-day, every day, A 11 68. 

alaunt, a large dog for hunting, wolf- 
hound, A 2148. 

ale-stake, A 667 {see note). 

algate, at any rate, nevertheless; 
matter what happened, HF 943, 

Algezir, Algeciras, A 57. 

Alisaundre, Alexandria, A 51. 

aller, of all; our aller, of us 
A 823. 

also, so, HF 576. 

Amazones, the Amazons, A 880. 

amblere, ambling horse, A 469. 

Amphioun, Amphion, A 1546. 

anlas, a broad, two-edged dagger with 
a sharp point, A 357. 

Antonius, Antony, A 2032. 

apairen, impair; become or be im- 
paired, be harmed, HF 756. 

apalled, lessened, A 3053. 

aperte, openly, HF 717. 

apertenen, appertain, TA. 

apparaillinge, preparation, A 2913. 

appetyt, appetite, desire, A 1670, 



193 



194 



CHAUCER 



apyked, adorned, A 365. 

areste, areest, arrest; confinement, 

A 1 3 10; 7?iaad areest, seized, B 

4090. 
aresten, check, pull up, A 827. 
arm-greet, as thick as one's arm, 

A 2145. 
armed up, fully armed, A 1852. 
armee, naval expedition, A 60. 
armes, arms, coat of arms; in oon 

armes, bearing the same arms em 

blazoned on their shields or sur- 

coats, A 1 01 2. 
armipotente, powerful in arms, A 

1982. 
arn, are, HF 1008. 
a-roume, in. the open, at large, HF 

540. 
arrerage, arrears, A 602. 
arrest, the "rest" for couching the 

butt of the spear before charging 

for attack, A 2602. 
arreste, see areste. 
arreten, ascribe; nareite, ascribe not, 

A 726. 
Artoys, Artois, A 86. 
arwe, arrow, A 107. 
as for me, so far as I am concerned, 

A 1619. 
as nouthe, just now, A 462. 
ascendent, the degree of the zodiacal 

circle just rising above the eastern 

horizon at any moment, A 417, 
asp, aspen, A 2921. 
aspect, A 1087 {see note). 
aspyen, spy, find out, A 1420. 
assayen, try, test, A 181 1. 
assegen, besiege, A 881. 
assent, agreement, covenant, C 758. 
assenten, agree to, approve of, A 374. 
assoiling, absolution, A 661. 
assuren, insure, A 926. 
asterten, escape, A 1592. 
astrolabie, TA {see note). 
astrologiens, astronomers, TA. 



asweved, mazed, dazed, HF 549. 
athamaunt, adamant, A 1305. 
Athenes, Athens, A 861. 
at-reden, out-rede, surpass in counsel, 

A 2449. 
at-rennen, outrun, A 2449. 
atte, atten, at the, to the, A 29 [A. S. 

CEt thcB7n\ 
attempre, temperate, B 4028. 
Atthalante, Atalanta, A 2069. 
Attheon, Actgeon, A 2b64. 
auditour, auditor (a person appointed 

to check accounts to see if they are 

correct), A 594. 
Augustyn, St. Augustine, A 4431. 
Austin, St. Augustine, A 187. 
auter, altar, A 1905. 
avauntour, boaster, B 4107. 
aventure, chance, luck, A 25. 
Averrois, Averroes, A 433. 
avisioun, vision, HF 513. 
avow, vow, A 2237. 
Avycen, Avicen, A 432. 
ayel, grandfather, A 2477. 
axen, ask, call for, A 1739. 

bacheler, bachelor, a candidate for 

knighthood, A 80. 
Baldeswelle, Bawdeswelle, A 620. 
balled, bald, A 2518 
barre, a bar of metal or ornamental 

device, on a girdle or belt, into 

which the tongue of the buckle 

fitted, A 329. 
batailled, embattled, B 4050 
bauderie, wantonness, A 1926. 
bawdrik, belt or strap over the 

shoulder to carry a horn, etc., at 

the side, A 116. 
beau, fair, HF 643. 
beggestere, beggar, properly a beggar 

woman, A 242. 
beheste, commands ; performen hir 

behestes, attain or fulfill what their 

statement calls for, TA 2. 



GLOSSARY 



195 



Belmarye, Benamarin, A 57. 

beme, horn, B 4588. 

Beneit, Benedict, A 173. 

bente, slope covered with grass, A 

1981. 
Bernard, Bernardus Gordonius, A 434. 
Berwik, Berwick, A 692. 
beste, beast, animal, creature, HF 932. 
beste, best, atte beste, to the beste, in 

the best way, A 29. 
bet, better ; go bet, go quickly, C 667. 
beten, beat, HF 1044. 
beten (pt. beete, pp. beten, ybete), beat, 

beat out, hammer, A 2162; set the 

air beating, HF 104 1. 
beten, mend, tend, kindle, A 2253. 
betid, happened, HF 578. 
bi-bledde, drenched with blood, A 

2CX)2. 

bidden (3 pers. pr. biddeth, bit, pret. 

bad, bade, past part, bidde, bede), 

ask, beg, beseech ; also (through 

confusion with beden), command, 

A 187. 
biform, before, A 100. 
bihoten, promise, A 1854. 
biknowen, acknowledge, A 1557. 
biraft, taken away, A 1361. 
biseken, beseech, A 918. 
biset, established, fixed, A 3012. 
bisetten, employ, A 279. 
bisinesse, business, care, trouble, A 

520. 
bismotered, soiled, A 76. 
bit, biddeth, A 187/ see bidden, 
blankmanger, blancmange, a dish of 

" chicken, or other meat, with cream, 

rice, almonds, sugar, eggs, etc.," 

A 387. 
blenden (3 pers. pr. blent), blind, 

deceive. Truth 4. 
bleynte, blenched, grew pale, A 1078. 
blowen, blow ; utter, send forth, A 

2512. 
blyve, quickly, A 2697. 



Boece, Boethius, A 4432. 

bokeler, buckler, A 112. 

bole, bull, A 2139. 

Boloigne, Boulogne, A 465. 

bon, good ; bo7t hostel, a good hostelry, 

good lodging, HF 1022. 
boras, borax, A 630. 
bord, table. A, 52. 
borwe, pledge ; to borwe, in pledge, 

A 1621. 
borwen, give security for, obtain on 

pledge, C 871. 
boteler, butler, HF 592. 
bouc, bouk, abdomen, paunch, A 2746. 
bourde, jest, C 778. 
bracer, guard for the arm. Am. 
Bradwardyn, Bradwardine, A 4432. 
brast, see bresten. 
braune, brawn, muscle, A 546. 
brede, breadth, A 2916. 
breem, bream (a kind offish), A 350. 
breme, fiercely, A 1699. 
bren, bran, B 4430. 
brennen (pt. brente, pp. brent, 

y brent), burn, A 946. 
brenningly, burningly, A 1564. 
bresten (pret. 3 person pr. brest, 

brast, brost, p. brosten), burst, 

break, A 1980. 
bret-ful, brimful, A 687. 
brinke, edge (of a body of water), 

HF 803. 
brouken, enjoy, B 4490. 
browding, embroidery, A 2498. 
Brute, Brutus, Co7?ip. Purse, 22. 
bulte, bolt, B 4430. 
Burdeuxward, Bordeauxward, A 397. 
burdoun, burden, second or bass, A 

673. 
burgeys, burgess, A 369. 
burned, burnished, B 4054. 
Burnel, A 4502 {see note). 
but, but if, unless, A 351. 
buxumnesse, submission. Truth, 15. 
by and by, side by side, A loii. 



196 



CHAUCER 



caas (pi. caas)y case at law, A 323. 

cadence, a term in prosody, HF 623 
{see note). 

Cadme, Cadmus, A 1546. 

caitif, captive in evil case, A 924. 

caityf, captive ; wretched person, 
wretch, C 728. 

Calistopee, Calisto, A 2056. 

cantel, piece, A 3008. 

Capaneus, Capaneus, A 932. 

careyne, corpse, A 2013. 

carf , see kerve. 

carl, churl, fellow, chap, A 545. 

carpen, chat, A 474. 

Cartage, Carthage, A 404. 

carte, chariot, A 2041. 

cas, chance, accident, chance happen- 
ing, A 844. 

caste, sly device, sleight, A 2468. 

casten, judge, A 2172. 

casuelly, happening by chance, HF 
679. 

catel, chattels, property, A 373. 

Caunterbury, Canterbury, A 22. 

causeles, without cause or reason, 
HF 667. 

ceint, girdle, belt, A 329. 

celle, a monastic house dependent 
upon a larger monastery, A 172. 

cerial, denoting a kind of oak, the 
Quercus cerris, A 2290. 

certein, certain ; certein of conclu- 
siounSf certain (number) of prob- 
lems, TA. 

ceruce, white lead, A 630. 

champartye, equality, A 1949. 

chauntrie, chauntry, an endowment 
to pay for masses for the founder's 
soul or some similar purpose, A 
510. 

chapelayne, chaplain; here, a nun 
appointed to recite the lesser serv- 
ices in the chapel of a convent, A 
164. 

chapman, merchant, A 398. 



char, chariot, car, A 2138. 

charge, load, burden : care, trouble, 
A 2287 5 ^^^^ which has weight, a 
heavy thing, HF 746. 

chasteyn, chestnut, A 2922. 

chees, choose, A 1595. 

Chepe, Cheapside, A 754. 

chere, face; manner, behavior; enter- 
tainment; pleasure, A 139. 

chevisaunce, borrowing, A 282. 

chirking, harsh noises, A 2004. 

chivachye, military expedition, A 85. 

chivalrye, knightly prowess, A 865. 

chydinge, chiding, reproof, angry 
speech, HF 1028. 

Citheroun, Cithseron, A 1936. 

citole, a kind of harp, A 1959. 

citryn, lemon-colored, greenish-yel- 
low, A 2167. 

clarree, a clear wine, or more gener- 
ally, a drink of spiced wine sweet- 
ened with honey, A 147 1. 

clause, sentence; in a clause^ in a 
brief space, A 1763. 

Clemence, Clementia, Clemency, 
Mercy, A 928. 

clepen, call, A 121. 

clerk, a cleric; hence, a theological 
student, or, later, a student in gen- 
eral; hence, one who reads or writes 
books, a writer, A 11 63. 

clothered, clotted, A 2745. 

clothes, tapestries, A 2281. 

clout, rag, C 736. 

cloysterer, a monk (as living in a clois- 
ter), A 259. 

COlde, chill, harmful, B 4446. 

coler, collar, A 2152. 

colera, choler, B 4018 (see note). 

coif ox, a variety of fox with more black 
in its fur than the common varieties, 
brant-fox, B 4405. 

Coloigne, Cologne, A 466. 

coloure, specious reasoning, plausible 
explanation, HF 859. 



GLOSSARY 



197 



colpon, bunch, bundle, separate por- 
tion, A 679. 

communes, commons, commoners, 
people not of noble, knightly, or 
gentle rank, A 2509. 

COmpas, circle, circumference; outer 
bounding circle, HF 798. 

compassinge, doing, accomplishment, 
A 1996. 

compeer, comrade, friend, A 670 

compilatour, compiler, TA. 

compleynte, lamentation, HF 924 

COmposicioun, agreement, arrange- 
ment, A 2651. 

compownen, compound, compose, 
construct, HF 1029. 

conclusioun, a proposition or prob- 
lem, TA. 

condescende, n, give way to, yield, 
TA. 

condicioun, condition in life, manner 
and behavior, A ^S, 

confiture, mixture, C 862. 

confounden, overwhelm. To Rose- 
mounde^ A 10. 

COnnen (pr. can^ cunnen; pret. ind. 
couthcy coude ; pret. subj. couthe^ 
coude; pp. couthe)^ know, be able, 
can, A no. 

conseil, see counseil. 

conservatif , conservative, insuring the 
existence or quality of, HF 847. 

conseyven, gain a conception or un- 
derstanding of, TA. 

Constantyn, Constantinus, A 433. 

constellacioun, constellation; here 
in a special sense, the relative posi- 
tion of several planets at a particu- 
lar time as affecting events on earth, 
A 1087. 

contek, strife, A 2cx>3. 

cop, top, A 554. 

cope, a long cloak (used specifically 
the robe of a friar), A 260. 

COrage, heart, inner being, A 1 1. 



COrne, corn (that is, as now in English 
use, wheat); //., grains of corn, 
HF 697. 

corrumpable, corruptible, A 3010. 

cote, cat; dungeon, A 2457. 

cote, dress, B 4026. 

cote-armure, a surcoat embroidered 
with the arms of a knight, a coat of 
arms, A 1016. 

coude, see connen. 

counseil, counsel, judgment, belief, A 
1141; confidant, A 1147; secret 
understanding, C 819. 

countenance, behavior, B 1893. 

countour, auditor of accounts, A 359. 

countrefeten, copy, imitate, A 139. 

cours, course, A 2549. 

courtepy, short coat, A 290. 

couthe (pp. of conne), known, hence, 
well-known, 14; (as adv.) clearly 
or familiarly, as being well under- 
stood, HF 757. 

covercle, cover of a pot or other ves- 
sel, HF 792. 

covyne, underhand dealing, A 604. 

coy, quiet, shy, A 119. 

cracching, scratching, A 2834 

crafty, skillful, A 1897. 

Creon, Creon, A 938. 

Cresus, Croesus, A 1946. 

Crete, Crete, A 980. 

Cristofre, image of St. Christopher, 
A 115. 

croked, crooked ; that which is 
crooked or wrong, Truths 9. 

crokke, crock, Truths 12. 

crop, bough, tree top, A 7. 

crydestow, criedst thou, A 1083. 

crulle, curled, A 81. 

Cupido, Cupid, A 1963. 

cure, care; took he most cure^ gave he 
most attention, A 303. 

curious, careful; skillful, A 677; com- 
plex or difficult, TA. 

curteis, curteys, courteous, A 99. 



1 98 



CHAUCER 



curteisly, courteously; in gracious 

wise, To Rosemounde, 14. 
curteisye, courtesy, etiquette, A 132. 
cut, lot, A 835. 

daliaunce amusing, trifling, light and 

pleasant talk, A 211; don or have 

daliaunce^ make advances with 

pleasant talk, make sport, B 1894. 
Damascien, Damascenus, A 433. 
dame, lady; used as a title of respect 

for elderly persons, which in modern 

times came to be applied exclusively 

to persons of humble rank; by 

metonymy, mother, C 684. 
dan, master (as a title), HF 916. 
Dane, Danae, A 2062. 
darreynen, decide a claim, contest, 

A 1609. 
daswed, dazed, HF 668. 
daunce, dance; in the daunce, among 

the number, with those, HF 639. 
dauncen, dance, game, sport, fashion, 

A 476. 
daunger, domination, control, A 663. 
daungerous, harsh, forbidding, A 517. 
daunten, daunt, subdue, control. 

Truth, 13. 
dawen, to become day, break, A 1676. 
debat, debate, strife, contest, A 1754. 
dede, deed, also pi. deeds, doings. 

Truth, 13. 
deden, grow dead, grow numb, be 

palsied, HF 552. 
deduyt, pleasure, A 2177. 
deedly, death-like, A 1082. 
deel, part, A 3064. 
degree, step, A 1890. 
delivere, quick of movement, alert, 

active, A 84. 
deliveren, deliver, grant deliverance. 

Truth, 7. 
deliverly, quickly, B 4606. 
Delphyn, Delphenus, the Dolphin, 

HF 1006. 



demen, judge, consider, think, A 1353. 
demeine, manage, HF 959. 
departen, part, A 11 34. 
depeynted, depicted. A, 2027. 
deren, harm, spoil, A 1822. 
derre, dearer, A 1448. 
Dertemouthe, Dartmouth, A 389. 
despitous, unpitying, 516. 
despit, despyt, spite, maUce, A 941. 
destreynen, oppress, distress, A 1455- 
devoir, duty, A 2598. 
devys, contrivance ; disposition, direc- 
tion, A 816. 
devysen, describe, A 34 ; direct, 

A 1425. 
deye, dairywomen, B 4036. 
Deyiscorides, Descorides, A 430. 
deyntee, of \Aorth, excellent, A 168. 
deys, dais, A 370. 
Diane, Diana, A 1682. 
diapred, adorned with a pattern of 

flowers or arabesque, A 2158. 
digne, worthy, dignified ; standing 

upon dignity, haughty, A 140. 
dim, dark or obscure ; also, not clear 

to the hearing or understanding, 

A 2433. 
dint, stroke, HF 534. 
disconfiture, discomfiture, defeat, A 

icx)8. 
disjoint, a difficult or critical position; 

with no disjoint, without being put 

into difficulties, A 2962. 
disjoynt, failure, A 2962. 
dispence, expenditure, A 441. 
dispitously, with grief and anger, 

wrath fully, A 11 24. 
disposicioun, position, disposition ; 

in astrology, the position of a planet 

in a horoscope as affecting a man's 

life, or some event, A 1087. 
disport, sport, gayety, sociability, A 

137- 
disporten, make sport of, joke, rally, 
HF571. 



GLOSSARY 



199 



divisioun, difference, A 1 780 ; also, 
part, province, A 2024. 

divyning, making forecasts or conjec- 
tures, A 2515. 

divynis, divines, theologians, A 1323. 

doctrine, teaching, TA. 

dome, judgment, decision, A 323. 

don (ind. pr. pi. don, pret. dide ; 
subj. pr. do, don), do, make, effect ; 
cause (a thing to be done, which 
is specified by following infinitive), 
A 78 ; doon diligence, use (one's) 
diligence, A 2470. 

dormant, literally "sleeping"; table 
dormant, a side table constantly 
standing and in use (as contrasted 
with the tables set up for meals and 
cleared away afterwards), A 353. 

dread, fear ; doubt, A 1593. 

drecched, distressed, B 4077. 

dredful, fearful, timorous, A 1479. 

dressen, arrange, order, put in order, 
A 106. 

dreynte, drowned, HF 923. 

droghte, drought, A 2. 

droupen, droop in flight, A 107. 

dmggen, drudge, A 1416. 

duren, last, A 1360. 

dyken, dig, A 536. 

dys, dice, A 1238. 

ecclesiaste, cleric, A 708. 

Ecclesiaste, Ecclesiasticus, A 4519. 

effect, result, conclusion, A 11 89. 

aide, age, A 2447. 

elvish, elfish, B 1893 {see note). 

Elye, Elias, HF 588. 

Emelye, Emily, A 972. 

Emetreus, Emetrius, A 2156. 

emforth, to the extent of, A 2235. 

encombred, burdened, A 1718. 

encombrous, burdensome, HF 862. 

enditen, indite, write ; compose 
(verse), A 95 ; frame (a docu- 
ment), A 325. 



endjrting, writing, composing, man- 
ner of composing, TA. 

engendring, engendering, begetting, 
HF 968. 

engin, intellectual ability, cleverness, 
TA. 

enhorten, exhort, A 2851. 

Enok, Enoch, HF 588. 

envyned, provided with a store of 
wine, A 342. 

entendement, understanding, HF 983. 

ententifly, attentively, HF 616. 

entunen, intone, A 123. 

Epicurus, Epicurus, A 336. 

erchedekne, archdeacon, A 655. 

ere, plow, A 887. 

erste, first ; at erste, for the first time, 
A 512. 

eschaungen, exchange, A 278. 

eschewed, avoided, B 4528. 

Esculapius, Esculapius, A 431. 

esen, care for, make comfortable, A 
29. 

espyen, spy, C 755 ; perceive, HF 

944. 
estatlich, stately, A 140. 
estatly, stately, dignified, A 281. 
estres, inner parts, A 197 1. 
esy, light, moderate, A 441. 
evene, even, straight, proper, in 

proper wise, A %2>' 
everich, every, A 241. 
everichon, each one, A 31. 
evermore, evermore, ever since, A 67. 
every-deel, every part, A 368. 
experience, experiment, HF 788. 
eye, eye ; at eye, at a glance, A 3016. 
eyrisshe, pertaining to the air, HF 

932. 

f aiding, kind of rough cloth, A 391. 
fantasye, fantasy, fancy, HF 593. 
fare, bustle, activity, HF 682. 
fare, doing, dealing, A 1809 ; stir, 
bustle, HF 1065. 



200 



CHAUCER 



faren {^xt.\.. ferde), fare, A 1647. 

farsed, stuffed, A 233. 

favour, favor, help, support, HF 519. 

fayn, gladly, A 766. 

fecchen (pret./^//^,/^/, pp.y^O? fetch, 

A 819. 
feithfully, faithfully, in good faith, 

HF 963. 
Femenye, the kingdom of the Ama- 
zons, A 866. 
fen, a division of an Arabic book, 

C 890. 
fer, far, A 48. 
ferde, fear, HF 950. 
ferfarthly, completely, A 960. 
fermacie, remedy, A 2713. 
feme, far, A 14. 
ferre, further, A 2060. 
ferreste, farthest, A 394. 
ferthing, farthing, bit, A 134. 
fast, fist, C 802. 
fet, see fecchen. 

fetis, neat, well-made, fine, A 157. 
fetisly, with neatness or distinction, 

admirably, A 124. 
fey, faith, A 1 1 26. 
figure, shape, form, A 2035 ; figure of 

speech, A 499. 
fithele, fiddle, A 296. 
flatour, flatterer, B 4515. 
Flaundres, Flanders, A 84. 
Flaundrish, Flemish, A 272. 
fleen {j^x^i. fleigJi) ^ flee, A 11 70. 
fleen (pret. Jleigh, pret. pi. flowen, 

Jiyen, y^.flowen), fly, B 4421. 
fleigh, see fleen. 
fleten, float, A 2397. 
flikeringe, fluttering, A 1962. 
flotery, fluttering, unkempt, A 2882. 
flowen, see fleen. 
fond, found; fond hirself, provided 

for, B 4019. 
footmantel, a mantle or cloak for the 

feet, used while riding as a habit is 
used to-day, A 472. 



for, in order that, HF 559. 
for-as-mechel, for as much, TA. 
for-blak, very black, jet-black, A 

2144. 
force, fors, force ; no for s^ no matter; 

by force, by force of this authority, 

A 2554. 
for-do, foredone, brought to evil, 

ruined, A 1560. 
for-dronke, very drunk, overcome 

with drink, C 674. 
for-leten, given up, " dropped," HF 

694. 
forme, form, A 2313. 
forn-cast, foreordained, predestined, 

B 4407. 
for-old, exceeding old, A 2142. 
forpyned, that has pined away, 

A 205 ; worn by torment, A 1454. 
forster, forester, A 117. 
fortunen, derive a fortune from, 

ascribe a fortune to, A 417. 
forward, agreement, promise, pledge, 

A33- 

forwiting, foreknowledge, B 4433. 

forwhy, because, HF 553. 

forwrapped, closely wrapped, C 718. 

foryeten, forgotten, 19 14. 

f other, load, A 530. 

foudre, bolt of lightning, HF 535. 

foundred, foundered, fell, A 2687. 

fowl, bird, A 9. 

foynen, thrust, direct a blow or blows, 
A 1654. 

frakne, freckle, A 2169. 

fredom, generosity, liberality, A 46. 

frere, friar, A 208. 

freten, eat, A 2019. 

fulle, full ; atte fulle, to the full, com- 
pletely, A 651. 

fyled, filed, polished by filing, A 2152. 

Fynystere, Finisterre, A 408. 

galauntyne, galantine, a sauce for 
fish and fowl, To Rose^Jiounde, 17. 



GLOSSARY 



20I 



Galgopheye, Gargaphie, A 2626. 

Galice, Galicia, A 466. 

galingale, sweet cypress, used as a 
condiment, A 381. 

Galyen, Galen, A 431. 

game, sport, HF 822. 

gargat, gorge, throat, B 4525. 

Gatesden, John Gatesden, A 434. 

gat-tothed, with teeth set wide apart, 
A 468. 

gaude grene, green produced by dye- 
ing with weld, a yellowish green, 
A 2079. 

gauded, provided with gauds (larger 
beads standing for Pater Nosters, 
inserted after each ten smaller beads 
standing for Ave Marias), A 159. 

Gaufred, Geoffrey de Vinsauf, B 

4537. 

Gaunt, Ghent, A 448. 

gay, fine, Am. 

gayne, gain, avail, profit, A 1176. 

Genilon, Ganelon, A 4417. 

gentil, gentle, noble in rank or char- 
acter, A 72. 

gere, change, alternation of mood, 
A 1372. 

gere, gear, arms, A 1016. 

gerful, changeful, A 1538. 

Gerland, Gerland, Garland, a proper 
name, B 4573. 

Gernade, Granada, A 56. 

gery, changeable, A 1536. 

gessen, guess, suppose, think, A 
117. 

gigginge, fastening the straps (for 
handles), A 2504. 

Gilbertyn, Gilbertus Anglicus (?), 

A 434. 
ginnen (pret. sing, gonne, pi. gonne, 

gunnen), begin, HF 944. 
gipoun, a close-fitting garment for the 

body like a doublet, A 75. 
gipser, pouch, A 357. 
girle, youth (of either sex), A 664. 



glader, gladdener, A 2223. 

glaringe, glaring, shining, glassy, 
A 684. 

glede, burning coal, A 1997. 

gobet, piece, A 696. 

gold-hewen, gold-hewn, made of 
gold, A 2500. 

golde, marigold, A 1929. 

goliardeys, loose and ribald talker, 
A 560. 

gon (pret. yede, also by usage as 
now, wente, properly pret. of wen- 
den)^ go, A 12. 

gonne, see ginnen. 

goodly, kindly, HF 565. 

Gootland, the island of Gottland in 
the Baltic sea, A 408. 

gost, spirit, A 2768. 

governance, governaunce, govern- 
ment, control ; skill in manage- 
ment, HF 945 ; demeanor, A 281. 

graunge, granary, HF 698. 

graunte, assent, A 786. 

gree, degree, rank, high quality ; 
degree of achievement, A 2733. 

Grekes, Greeks, A 2951. 

greve, grove ; //., sprays, A 1507. 

griffon, griffin, A 2133. 

gropen, test, A 644. 

ground, stuff, A 453. 

groyning, grumbling, murmuring, A 
2460. 

grucchen, grudge, A 3045. 

gruf, groveling, face to earth, A 
949. 

grys, gray fur, A 194. 

guerdoun, reward, HF 619. 

gyen, guide, direct, A 1950. 

gyse, mode, way, A 993. 

habergeoun, coat of mail, A 76. 
habounden, abound. To Rosemoundey 

12. 
halp, see helpen. 
halt, see holden. 



202 



CHAUCER 



halwe, saint, hence the shrine of a 

saint, A 14. Cf. Hallowe^en^ the 

eve of All Saints. 
Haly, Holy, A 431. 
han, see haven. 

hardily, boldly; surely, A 156. 
hardy, bold, courageous, A 882. 
harlot, servant ; vicious person, A 

647. 
harneis, harneys, equipment for 

battle, arms and armor, war gear, 

A 1613. 
harneised, harnessed, equipped, A 1 14. 
harre, hinge, A 550. 
hasardour, gamester, C 751. 
hasardrie, gaming, C 897. 
hauberk, coat of mail, A 2500. 
haunt, dvi^elling place; place of re- 
sort; experience, skill, A 447. 
haven, han (pres. pi. han^ pret. hadde^ 

hade), have, keep, A 490. 
hawe, haw, yard, C 855. 
he, he; also as an indef. pron., one, 

another, A 2612. 
heed, head, HF 1021. 
heeth, heath, uncultivated open land, 

A 6. 
hegge, hedge, B 4408. 
helpen (pret. holp, heelp, pp. holpen), 

help, A 18. 
henna, hence, C 687. 
hennesforth, henceforth, HF 782. 
henten (pret. hente), seize, take, get, 

A 299. 
herberwe, harborage, A 403. 
herde, herdsman, A 643. 
Hereos, Eros, A 1374. 
herknen, harken, HF 725. 
hart, hart, stag, A 1681. 
harta, heart, A 150. 
harta-spoon, the hollow place in the 

breast when the ribs join and form 

the cartilago ensiformis, A 2606. 
hast, behest, command, A 2532. 
hatan (pret. hette), promise, A 239. 



hethenassa, heathendom, A 49. 
haven (pt. haf, heef), heave, Hft up, 

A550- 
hayra, hair, haircloth, C 736. 
highte, see hotan. 
hir, of them, A 586. 
ho, ho ! a cry for silence, A 2533. 
holden (3 pr. sing, halt, pt. heeld, 

pp. holden), hold, keep, consider, 

esteem, A 141. 
holt, wood, woodland, A 6. 
honestly, honorably, A 1444. 
honta, hunt, A 1674. 
hool, whole, A 3006. 
hoomly, in homely or simple style, 

A 328. 
hoppasteras, dancers; (used as an 

adjective), dancing, A 2017. 
hotan (pret., used also as present, 

sing, hatte, hette, heet, highly highte, 

pi. hatten, heeten, highten ; pp. hote^i, 

hight), order, command, promise; 

also (the only remaining examples 

of an inflected passive), be called, 

A 1557. 

houpan, whoop, B 4590. 

housbondria, husbanding, thrifty care, 
B 4018. 

howla, cry aloud, A 2817. 

Hulla, Hull, A 404. 

humblinga, rumbling, HF 1039. 

humour, one of the four qualities or 
dispositions of the body, hot, cold, 
dry, moist, which in combination, 
according to the old theory of medi- 
cine, determine the characteristic 
physical state of a person, and his 
health or disease at any time, A. 421. 

hunta, hunter, A 2018. 

hyna, servant, churl, A 603, 

image, an image; here, one of a pa- 
tient under treatment used in apply- 
ing " natural magic " to his cure, 
A 418. 



i 



GLOSSARY 



203 



Inde, India, A 2156. 

inequal, unequal, A 2271. 

innen, provide with lodging, A 2192. 

janglere, joker, teller of idle gossip, 

A 560. 
jape, joke, trick, A 705. 
jet, fashion, A 682. 
journee, day's journey, A 1738. 
Julian, Julian, A 340. 
Julius, Julius Caesar, A 2031. 
justen, joust, A 96. 
juwyse, juyse, judgment, sentence, 

A 1739- 

keep, heed. A, 1389. 

kempe, rough, A 2134. 

kennen, ken, know, perceive, HF 

498. 
kepen, take care, heed ; take care of; 

retain, keep, A 130. 
kerven (pt. carf^ pp. carven, y carve), 

carve, cut, A 100. 
knarre, a knot in wood ; figuratively, 

one heavily built and muscular, A 

551- 
knarry, gnarled, A 1977. 

knave, boy, C 666. 

kynde, nature, HF 574. 

kyndeliche, that pertaineth to nature, 

HF 829. 
kyndely, naturally, HF 831. 
kyndly, natural, that pertains to 

nature, "HF 730. 
kythen, show, display, HF 528. 

laas, lace, A 392. 

lacerte, muscle, A 2753. 

lafte, see leven. 

large, large, A 472; adv., freely, A 

734. 
large, large ; at his large, at freedom 

to do as he pleases, A 2288. 
las, lace, noose, snare, A 181 7. 
lasse, less ; lasse and more, of low 

and high degree, A 1756. 



latoun, latten, an alloy of copper and 

zinc, A 699. 
launde, an open grassy place among 

trees, A 1691. 
laurer, laurel, A 2922. 
lay, see lyen. 

laynere, a thong or lacing, A 2504. 
lazar, leper, A 242. 
lede (3 pers. pres. sing, ledeth, let; 

pret. sing, ledde, ladde, pi. ledden, 

ladden ; pp. lad, y lad), lead, bring, 

convey, drive, A 530. 
leepen (pret. leep), leap, A 2687. 
leet, see leten. 
leme, gleam, flare, B 4020. 
lenen, lend, A 611. 
leren, learn, HF 511. 
lesen (pret. lees, pp. lor en), lose, A 

1215. 
lesing, losing, loss, A 1707. 
lesinge, lying, lie, HF 676. 
lest, pleasure, interest, A 132. 
leste, see liste. 
leten (pret. leet, let, lete; imp. leet, 

lat; pp. laten), let, leave, give up ; 

lat be, let go, leave, give up, A 508. 
letten, prevent, stand in the way of, 

hinder, A 889. 
Lettow, Lithuania, A 54. 
letuarie, a paste of honey or other 

sweetmeat mixed with a drug to 

disguise its taste, A 426. 
leve, dear, HF 816. 
leven (pret. lafte, lefte, pp. laft, left), 

leave ; leave off, refrain, A 492. 
leven, believe, HF 708. 
levere, liefer, more agreeable, A 293. 
lewed, ignorant, A 502. 
lewedly, in an unlearned or simple 

way, HF 866. 
leyen (pret. leye, leyd, pp. leyd), lay 

A 81 ; lay a bet, wager, HF 674. 
licentiat, licentiate, A 220. 
liche-wake, lyke-wake, watch over a 

dead body, A 2958. 



204 



CHAUCER 



lief, dear one, B 4069. 

lighten, alight, descend, HF 508. 

limitour, limiter, A 209. 

linage, lineage, A 1829. 

lind, linden, A 2922. 

lipse, lisp, A 264. 

liste, leste (pret, liste^ teste) ^ please 
(often used impersonally), A 102. 

listes, the inclosed space arranged 
for tournaments or other formal 
combats, A 1884. 

litarge, litharge, A 629. 

lith, limb, B 4065. 

lodemenage, pilotage, A 403. 

lode-sterre, load-star, north star, A 
2059. 

loken, locked, B 4065. 

loking, glance, A 2469. 

longen, long, desire, A 12. 

longen, belong, A 2278. 

lore, lore, teaching, HP^ 579. 

losengeour, liar, B 4516. 

love-daye, a day appointed for set- 
tling differences by arbitration, in- 
stead of legal action, A 258. 

lowe, low; of feathers in archery, hav- 
ing the flues inclined at a sharp angle 
to the rib and therefore not direct- 
ing the flight of the arrow properly, 
A 107; in humble fashion, A 
1405. 

lowly, modest, humble, A 99. 

Loy, Eligius, A 120. 

luce, luce, pike, A 350. 

Lucina, Lucina, A 2085. 

lust, pleasure, A 192. 

luxurie, lechery, C 897. 

lyen (pret. tay\ lie, stay, A 20. 

Lyeys, Ayas (formerly Layas), A 58. 

Lygurge, Lycurgus, A 2129. 

lyked, it pleased, A 2092. 

lykenesse, similarity, illustrations of 
similar things, A 2842. 

lyte, little, lowly, A 494. 

lyves, living, HF 1063. 



Macedo, of Macedon, HF 915. 
maistrye, mastery; for the maistrye, 

for the mastery (to excel others if 

competing or compared with them), 

superlatively, A 165. 
make, mate, rival, A 2556. 
male, chest, A 694. 
Malkin, a nickname for Matilda or 

Maude, A 4574. 
manasing, threatening, A 2035. 
mansioun, dwelKng, A 1974. 
mappemounde, lyiappa mundi, map 

of the world. To Rosernounde, A 2. 
marchal, marshal; here, an officer in 

charge of the seating of guests and 

similar matters of ceremony. 
Marte, Mars, A 2021. 
marybones, marrowbones, 380. 
mat, cast down, overcome, A 955. 
Maudelayne, Magdalen, A 409. 
maugre, despite ; maugre hie heed, 

despite his head, even should he 

suff"er death, A 11 69. 
maunciple, manciple, A 544. 
Maure, St. Maur, A 173. 
maydenhede, maidenhood, A 2329. 
mede, meed, reward. Truths 27. 
medlee, of mixed color, A 328. 
Meleagre, Meleager, A 2071. 
m'elten (pret. malt, pp. inolte), melt, 

HF 922. 
mercy, * thanks,' A 1950. 
meschief, mischance, misfortune, 

trouble, A 493; difficulty,' A 2551. 
mester, way of life, A 1340. 
mete (pret. niette, pp. met), meet, A 

1524. 
mete (pret. mette, pp. met), dream, 

HF517. 
meth, mead, A 2279. 
mette, see mete, 
meven, move, HF 813. 
me we, coop for fattening fowls or 

game, A 348. 
meynee, household, A 1258, 



i 



GLOSSARY 



205 



Middelburgh, Middelburg, A 277 (^see 

note). 
Minotaur, the monster that Theseus 

killed in the labyrinth in Crete, 

A 980. 
miracle, story of a miracle, legend, 

B 1881. 
mirthe, pleasure, entertainment, A 

759. 

misboden, threatened, offered injury, 
A 909. 

mister, trade, craft, A 613; what inis- 
ter men, men of what calling, what 
kind of men, A 1710. 

mo, more, HF 685. 

moot (pret. moste, subj. pr. moot, 
mote), must, may, A 232. 

more, mure; larger, HF 500. 

mormal, sore, A 386. 

mortreux, thick soups, A 384. 

morwe, morning, A 334. 

mosel, muzzle, A 21 51. 

mottelee, motley, A 271. 

mountance, amount, A 1570. 

mowen (pr. may, pret. mighte), be 
able, can, A 169. 

multiplicacioun, multiplication; the 
process by which (something — 
here a sound) is multiplied and car- 
ried on, HF 784. 

naker, kettledrum, A 251 1. 

nam, ne am, am not, A 1 122. 

namo, no more, A 544. 

narette, ne arrete, ascribe not, A 

726. 
narwe, narrow, small, B 4012. 
natheles, nevertheless, A 35. 
neden, need, be necessary, HF 575. 
nedely, under necessity, B 4434. 
nedes-cost, of necessity, A 1477. 
neet, neat, cattle, A 597. 
nere, ne were, were not, A 875. 
Nero, Nero, A 2032. 
nevenen, name, HF 562. 



never-a-del, never-a-bit, not at all, 
C670. 

nexte, nearest, A 1413. 

nice, particular, scrupulous, A 388; 
foolish, HF 920. 

nolde, ne wolde, would not; would 
not (take), A 1024. 

nones, nonce; for the nonys, for a" 
special purpose or for the time being 
(often used by Chaucer as little 
more than a convenient tag for the 
rime), A 379. 

noot, ne wot, knew not, A 284. 

Northfolk, Norfolk, A 619. 

nose-thirle, nostril, A 557. 

notabilitee, fact or truth worth re- 
membering, B 4399. 

not-heed, nut-head, a head round like 
a nut, A 109. 

nothing, nothing; adv., in no wise, 
B 4030. 

nouthe, now, A 462. 

novelrye, novelty, HF 686. 

noyous, bothersome, HF 574. 

nyghtertale, nighttime, 97. 

0, one, A 304. 

obeisaunce, obedience, A 2974. 

oon, one ; after oon, after one sort 
(the best), A 341; in oon, ever in 
one way, without change, without 
ceasing, A 1771 ; same, like, A 
1012. 

opie, opium, A 1472. 

or, ere, HF 1055. 

oratorie, oratory, chapel, A 1905. 

ordeyned, fixed, prepared, A 2553. 

ordinaunce, order, arrangement, A 
2567. 

Ore well, Orwell, A 277. 

orisoun, prayer, A 2261. 

orizonte, horizon; the great circle of 
the earth whose plane is parallel to 
the sensible horizon of a given 
place, TA. 



2o6 



CHAUCER 



orlogge, a timepiece of any kind ; 

horologe ; specif., a clock, B 4044. 
ounce, ounce, small piece ; by ounces, 

in separate pieces, A 677. 
out-hees, outcry, A 2012. 
outher, either, A 1485. 
outrydere, one who rides abroad ; 

here, a monk appointed to act as 

inspector of the manors, etc., of a 

monastery, A 166. 
out-twyne, twist out, untwine, To 

Roseviounde, II. 
overal, everywhere, A 4. 
overest, outermost, A 290. 
overte, open, of a nature to yield 

access, HF 718. 
OOwhor, anywhere, A 653. 
Oxenford, Oxford, A 285. 

pace, pass, proceed, A 36. 

Palatye, Palathia, A 65. 

paleys, palace, HF 1090. 

palfrey, a saddle horse as distin- 
guished from a charger, or war- 
horse, A 207. 

palmer, palmer, A 13. 

pan, skull-pan, head, A 1165. 

parament, a rich mantle or cloak, A 
2501. 

par amour, paramours, with passion, 
passionately, A 1155, 211 2. 

para venture, peradventure, perhaps, 
HF 792. 

pardee, F. par Dieu, by God, verily, 
A 563. 

pardoner, pardoner, A 543. 

parfey, in faith, HF 938. 

parfit, parfyt, perfect, A 72. 

parlement, deliberation ; conclusion, 
A 1306. 

parte, part, side, A 2582. 

party e, part, A 3008. 

parvys, the church porch of St. Paul's, 
the customary meeting place of 
lawyers, A 310. 



pas, pace, step, a walk, A 

825. 

passen, pass, surpass, overcome, A 

3089. 
pay en, pagan, A 2370. 
pecok-arwes, arrows feathered with 

peacock feathers, A 104. 
penance, penance; woe, distress, To 

Rosemounde, 14. 
Penneus, Peneus, A 2064. 
penoun, pennon, A 978. 
perfitly, perfectly, TA. 
Perotheus, Pirotheus, A 1191. 
perry e, jeweled work, A 2936. 
pers, blue ; also, a cloth of blue 

color, A 439. 
persoun, parson, A 478. 
persuasioun, persuasion; convincing 

argument, HF 872. 
peyne, pain, torture; for to dyen in 

the peyne, under penalty of dying 

under torture, A 11 33. 
Pheton, Phaeton, HF 942. 
Philostrate, A 1728. 
Physiologus, Physiol ogus, A 4461. 
pighte, pitched, A 2689. 
piled, thinned out, A 627. 
pilour, pillager, despoiler, A 1007. 
pilwe-beer, pillowcase, A 694. 
pinchen, find fault, A 326. 
plat, flat, final, A 1845. 
Platon, Plato, HF 759. 
plentevous, plenteous, A 344. 
plesaunce, pleasure, delight. To Rose- 

mounde, 22. 
pleyen, play, take pleasure, sport, A 

1195. 
pleyn, full, complete, A, 315. 
point, poynt, point; A 114; aim, A 
, 1501 ; in good point, in good condi- 
tion, A 200; at point devys, to the 

exact point, with precision, neatly, 

HF 917. 
pomel, top, A 2689. 
pomely, dappled, A 616. 



GLOSSARY 



207 



popet, a person who is small and at- 
tractive; used as a general term of 
endearment, like * dear thing,' ' pet,' 
C 1891. 

poraille, poor folk, A 247. 

porter, gate keeper, A 1940. 

portreiture, painting, A 1968. 

posen, propose a case, set forth, main- 
tain, A 1 162. 

poudre marchant, a condiment of 
sharp flavor, A 381. 

Poules, St. Paul's, A 509 

pouped, tooted, B 4589. 

poure, poor, A 225. 

poynaunt, pungent, A 352. 

poynt, see point. 

prees, crovv^d. Truths I. 

pielat, prelate, A 204. 

presse, press; in presse, in press (by 
use of curl papers or curling irons), 
A 81; mold, A 263. 

preven, prove; give proof of (some- 
thing specified or understood), at- 
test, A 485. 

pricasour, hard rider, A 188. 

priken, drive, urge, spur, stir, A 11. 

prikke, point, HF 907. 

privetee, private thought, hidden 
council, A 141 1. 

prive, secret, HF 717. 

prolixite, prolixity, HF 856. 

proporciouns, equalities of ratio be- 
tween numbers, the relations exist- 
ing between numbers in proportion; 
proportion, TA. 

propre, own, 540. 

prow, profit, HF 579. 

Pruce, Prussia, A 53. 

pryme, prime, nine o'clock in the 
morning, A 2189. 

prys, price, estimation, fame, A 67. 

Puella, A 2045 {see note). 

purchas, gain, A 256. 

purchasour, conveyancer, A 318. 

pure, pure; mere, very, A 1279. 



purfiled, embroidered, A 193. 

purtreyen, draw^ A 96. 

purtreyor, one who portrays; a 

draughtsman or painter, A 1899. 
purvey aunce, providence, A. 1252. 
pye, magpie, HF 703. 
pyk, pike. To Rosemounde, 17. 
pykepurs, pickpocket, A 1998. 
pypen, whistle, A 1838. 

quaken (pret. quook), quake, A 1 5 76. 

qualm, sickness, A 2014. 

quellen, kill, B 4582. 

questioun, questioning, discussion, 

A 2514. 
queynt, quenched, A 2321. 
queynte, strange, curious, A 1531. 
quike, quik, alive, A 1015 ; in lively 

fashion, A 306. 
quitly, quite, wholly, A 1792. 
quook, see quaken. 
quyten (pret. quyte, pp. quit), requite, 

acquit, discharge, ransom, A 770. 

rage, sport, play, A 257. 

Ram, the zodiacal sign, A 8. 

rape, haste, Adam, 7. 

raughte, see rechen. 

Razis, A 432 (see note). 

recchen (pret. roghte, roughte), reck, 

care, A 1398. 
recchen, explain, B 4086. 
rechen (pret. raughte), reach, give 

over, A 136. 
recorde, bear witness; recall, A 8290. 
rede, reed, counsel, advice, A 665. 
redily, ready at hand, 2276. 
redoutinge, showing dread and awe, 

worship, reverence, A 2050. 
reed, see rede. 

refreyd, chilled. To Rosemounde, A 21. 
registre, register, record, A 2812. 
regne, realm, kingdom, rule, A 866. 
reknen, take account, reckon, A 2040. 
renden (pt. rente, pp. rent), rend, 

A 990. 



208 



CHAUCER 



renge, rank, line, A 2594. 

rennen (pt. ronney pp. ronnen, 

yronne)^ run, A 8, cluster naturally, 

A 2165. 
renovelaunce, renewing, HF 693. 
rente, income, A 256. 
repleccioun, repletion, B 4027. 
replicacioun, reply, contradiction, 

contention, A 1846. 
reportour, reporter, recorder, A 814. 
resen, shake, A 1986. 
respyt, respite, delay, K 948. 
reste, rest, repose, Truth, 10. 
rethor, rhetorician, B 4397. 
reve, reeve, A 542. 
revel, revelry, A 2717; merrymaking. 

To Rosemounde, 6. 
reven (pt. refte, pp. raft^yraff), take 

away by violence, rob, bereave, 

A 2015. 
reverence, respectful fashion, A 305. 
rewen, rue, have pity, A 2233. 
reysen, campaign, make war, A 54. 
riden (3 pers. pres. sing. 7'ideth, 

rity pret. rode), ride, travel, 

A 45. 
rightes, rightly ; at alle rightes, 

rightly in every way, A 1852. 
lit, rideth, A 974. 
rote, root, A 2. 
rote, an instrument of the fiddle type, 

A 236. 
rouken, huddle, A 1308. 
Rouncivale, Rouncyvalle, A 670. 
rouncy, poor horse, nag, A 390. 
roundel, round, HF 791. 
roundel, rondel, rondeau, short song 

in a set form, A 1529. 
rouned, whispered, HF 722. 
route, following, retinue, A 2153. 
routen, to sound with a heavy sub- 
dued note, said of aloud continuous 

sound far off, HF 1038. 
routhe, ruth, pity, A 914. 
Rubens, A 2045 {see note). 



Rufus, Rufus, A 430. 
ruggy, rough, A 2883. 

sad, firm, steady, earnest, serious, 
A 2985. 

sadly, firmly, A 2602. 

saluen, salute, A 1492. 

sangwin, blood-red, A 333. 

sarge, serge, A 2568. 

Satalye, Adalia, A 58. 

sautrye, psaltery, an instrument like 
a harp, A 296. 

save, sage, A 2713. 

savour, taste, desire to enjoy. Truth, 5. 

sawce fleem, salt phlegm ; hence, af- 
flicted with salt phlegm, A 625. 

sawe, saying, A 1526. 

scalle, scab, Adam, 3. 

scalled, scabby, A 627. 

scapen, escape, A 1107" 

Scariot, Iscariot, A 4417. 

scathe, harm ; ill-fortune, a thing to 
sorrow for, a pity, A 446. 

Scithia, Scythia, A 867. 

scoleye, study, A 302. 

scriptures, writings, A 2044. 

scriveyn, scrivener, scribe, Adam, i. 

sechen, seek, A 784. 

see, sea ; Grete See, the Mediterra- 
nean, A 79. 

seeke, sick, A 18. 

seen (pret. sing, sey., seigh, saugh; 
pi. seyen, syen, pp. seyn), see; God 
you see, God behold (and protect, 
or bless) you, C 715. 

seigh, see see. 

selly, unusual, strange, marvelous, 
HF513. 

selve, self-same, A 2584. 

semi-cope, short cope ; see cope, 
A 262. 

sendal, a thin silk, A 440. 

sentence, meaning, A 306 ; matter, 
thing to be understood, TA ; con- 
clusion, decision, HF 877. 



i 



GLOSSARY 



209 



Serapion, Serapion, A 432. 
sermonen, speak, preach, C 879. 
servage, servitude, A 1946. 
servysable, dutiful, A 99. 
session, a sitting or court (here, the 
sittings of the Justices of the Peace), 

A 355- 

setten, set; sette hir aller cappe, "set 
the caps of them all," made fools of 
them all (a proverbial expression), 
A 586. 

seuretee, security, C 937. 

seurtee, surety, A 1603. 

sewen, follow, B 4527. 

seyn, see seen. 

seynd, broiled, B 4035. 

shamfast, modest, A 2055. 

shamfastness, bashfulness, A 840. 

shapen, shape, dispose, direct, ar- 
range, A 809. 

shaply, fitted, A 372. 

sheeldes, crowns, ecus^ A 278. 

shenden (pret. shente^ pp. sheni), 
harm, injure, destroy, A 2754. 

shene, bright, beautiful, A 115. 

shent, shente, see shenden. 

shepne, sheppin, sheepcote, A 2000. 

shetten, shut, inclose, HF 524. 

shirreve, sheriff, A 359. 

shiten, befouled, A 504. 

shode, forehead, A 2007. 

shot, arrow or bolt for a crossbow, 
A 2544. 

shrewe, curse, B. 4616. 

shrighte, shrieked, A 2817. 

signe„ sign ; constellation, HF 949. 

significavit, the writ for imprisoning 
an excommunicated person, so called 
from its opening word, A 662. 

sikerly, surely, A 137. 

simple, modest, A 119. 

sin, since, A 1285. 

Sinon, Sinon, A 4418. 

sithe, time, A 485. 

sithen, since, A 1520. 



sitten (pret. sat^ seet; pp. seten), sit^ 
A 94. 

skille, reason, explanation, HF 726. 

slawe, see sleen. 

sleen (pret. slowe, sloughy pp. slawen^ 
slayn), slay, A 63. 

sleere, slayer, A 2005. 

sleighte, trickery, A 604. 

slider, slippery, A 1264. 

slogardye, laziness, A 1042. 

slow, see sleen. 

slyly, wisely, cautiously, C 792. 

slyly, with discretion, wisely, A 
1444. 

smoking, incensing, offering incense 
in, A 2281. 

snewed, snowed, A 345. 

snibben, snub, rebuke, A 523. 

solempne, festive, genial, important, 
A 208. 

solempnely, pompously, A 274. 

som-del, somewhat, A 446. 

somnour, summonei:, A 543. 

sonde, sand, HF 691. 

soor, sore, afflicted, grieved, A 2220. 

soote, sweet, A i. 

sooth, true, certain, HF 502. 

sooty, sooty, begrimed with smoke, 
B 4022. 

soothly , truly, A 1 1 7. 

soren, soar, HF 499. 

sort, lot, chance, A 844. 

sothfastnesse, truth, Truth, i. 

SOtil, thin, fine, A 2030 ; subtle, skill- 
fully made, A 1954. 

souninge, in accordance with, A 275. 

sours, soaring, rising flight, HF 544. 

Southwerk, Southwark, A 20. 

space, space ; time, length of time, 
time or opportunity to do a thing ; 
way of doing, A 35. 

sparth, battle-ax, A 2520. 

special, special ; in special, in par- 
ticular, A 444. 

sporne, kick. Truth, 11. 



2IO 



CHAUCER 



springen (pt. sprang, spronge, pp. 

spronge), spring, spread, A 7 ; 

spread abroad, A 1437 > "s^» ^ 

2522. 
springen (pp. spreyndy yspreynd), 

sprinkle, A 2169. 
spronge, see springen. 
spyced, spiced, A 526. 
spycerie, spices, A 2935. 
Stace, Statins, A 2294. 
stake, stake, staff erected to indicate 

a spot, A 2552. 
slant, see stonde. 
stape, advanced, B 401 1. 
start, see sterven. 
Starke, strong, HF 545. 
stellifyen, place among the stars, 

make a constellation of, HF 586. 
stemed, shone, A 202. 
stenten (pret. pp. steitie), stop, A 

903. 
stepe, bright, A 201. 
stere, rudder, Coinp. Purse, 12. 
steren, stir, HF 567. 
sterlinges, coins sterling, C 967. 
sterre,- star ; also (probably) , constel- 
lation, A 2061. 
sterte, start, hasten (to go, or to 

make some motion understood), 

A 952. 
sterven (pret. starf, pp. storven, 

y starve), die, A 933. 
stevene, voice, B 4481 ; tone (of 

voice), HF 561. 
stinten, stop, cease, A 2348. 
stith, stithy, forge, A 2026. 
stonden (3 pers. pres. sing, stont, 

stant, pret. stod, stont, pp. stonden), 

stand, A 354. 
stoor, farm stock, 598. 
storven, see sterven. 
stot, a horse for daily business use, 

cob, A 615. 
Stratford -atte-Bo we, Stratford-at- 

Bow, 1047. 



straughte, see strecchen. 

strecche (pret. straughte, str eight, 

pp. str eight), stretch, A 2916. 
streit, strict, A 174. 
streite, drawn, B 4547. 
streite, tightly, A 457. 
streynen, constrain, B 4434. 
strike, hank, A 676. 
stroof, see stryve. 
stryve (pret. stroof, pp. striven), 

strive, A 1038. 
stubbe, stump, A 1978. 
studien, study, deliberate, think over, 

A 841. 
subtil, skillful, TA. 
subtiltee, skill, B 4509. 
suf&sance, sufficiency, content, B 4029. 
suffysen, suffice; stibj., let suffice, TA. 
surcote, upper or outer coat, A 617. 
surete, security, HF 723. 
sustren, sisters, A 1019. 
suyte, suit; kind (of cloth), A 2873. 
swappe, swoop, HF 543. 
swelten (pret. pp. swelte), die, be 

overcome, A 1356. 
swich, such, A 313. 
swink, toil, A 188. 
swinken, toil, A 186. 
swinker, hard worker, toiler, A 531. 
swogh, humming noise, soughing, 

HF 1031. 
swownen, swoon, faint, A 913. 
swythe, fast, quickly, HF 538. 
syen, see seen, 
syken, sigh, A 1 540. 

tabard, a loose overgarment, applied 
to a herald's coat of arms, but here 
a rough frock like a modern smock 
frock, A 541. 

Tabard, the Tabard inn, A 20. 

taille, tally, A 570. 

takel, tackle (cf. * fishing tackle') ; in 
archery, an arrow or (as in refer- 
I ence) a sheaf of arrows, A 106. 



GLOSSARY 



211 



takel, tackle, equipment, gear; specif. y 
in archery, arrow or arrows, A io6. 

taken (pt. took^ pp. taken) ^ take, A 34. 

talen, tell tales, A 772. 

tapicer, upholsterer, A 362. 

tare, weed, A 1570. 

targe, shield, A 471. 

Tars, Tartary, A 2160. 

tas, mass, A 1005. 

taverner, innkeeper, C 685. 

tempesten, put oneself in a rage, dis- 
turb oneself exceedingly. Truths 8. 

temple, an inn of courts, A 567. 

tene, harm, wrong, A 3106. 

terme, term, date, period; terme of his 
lyf to the end of his life, A 1029. 

termes, terms, phrases : i7i termes^ in 
abstract in set phrases ready for cita- 
tion, 323. 

tester, headpiece, A 2499. 

text, text; a passage in writing (not 
necessarily a Bible *text'), A 177. 

thank, statement of indebtedness; his 
thankesy with his consent, A 1626. 

ther, there, thither, where, A 34. 

ther-aboute, about that, designing or 
effecting that, HF 597. 

Theseus, Theseus, A 860. 

thider, thither, HF 724. 

thikke-herd, thick-haired, A 2518. 

thing, thing; specify a document, A 

325. 

thinken (pret. thoghte)^ seem (used im- 
personally) ; me thinketh, it seems 
to me, A 37. 

tho, then, A 2597. 

thoughte, see thinken. 

thral, thrall, slave. To Rosemounde, 
A 23. 

thresten, press, push, A 2612. 

thriftily, carefully, A 105. 

thurgh-girt, thrust through, A loio. 

tikelnesse, insecurity, Truth, 3. 

til, to, A 1478. 

tipet, cape, A 232. 



tithes, payments of a tenth part of 
the produce of the land (harvests, 
cattle, etc.) for the support of the 
church, or an equivalent in money, 
A 486. 

to-bresten {see bresten), break in 
pieces, A 261 1. 

tollen, take toll, A 562. 

tonne-greet, great as a tun or hogs- 
head, A 1994. 

tool, weapon, B 4106. 

to-rende (pt. to-rente, pp. to-re^it)^ 
tear in pieces, C 709. 

toret, eyelet in which to fasten rings, 
A 2152. 

touret, turret, A 1909. 

Trace, Thrace, A 1638. 

Tramyssene, Tremessen, A 62. 

trapped, with trappings, A 2157. 

trays, traces, A 2139. 

tresorere, treasurer, Comp. Purse, 18. 

tretis, treatise, TA. 

tretys, of suitable size, well-formed, 
A 152. 

trone, throne, A 2529. 

trouthe, troth, pledge, A 1610. 

trowen, beHeve, A 155. 

tweye, two, A 898. 

twinnen, separate, part ; go on, or 
away, A 835. 

tyne, barrel, Rosemounde^ 9. 

undergrowe, under proper size, A 

156. 

undern, between nine and twelve 
o'clock, forenoon, B 4412. 

undertaken {see taken), manage an 
undertaking, A 405. 

unethe, unethes, hardly, with diffi- 
culty, HF 699. 

up, up ; armed up, fully armed, A 
1852. 

up-haf {see heven), upheaved, 2428. 

upper, further upward, HF 884. 

upriste, uprising, A 105 1. 



212 



CHAUCER 



up-yelden (pt. up-yald, pp. up-y olden) , 

yield up, A 3052. 
usage, usage, habit, custom, *ways,' 

A no. 
usurpen, make pretense, TA. 

Vache, Fr. vache, cow. Truths 22. 
vavasour, one who held his land by 

knight's service, though not, like 

a baron, in direct fee from the king, 

A 360. 
venerye, hunting, A 166. 
ventusinge, cupping, A 2747. 
verdit, verdict, judgment, A 787. 
vernicle, a copy of St. Veronica's 

handkerchief {see note), A 685. 
verray, true, very, A 1551 ; adv.^ truly, 

HF 1079. 
vese, rush, A 1985. 
veyne-blood, letting of blood from a 

vein, A 2747. 
viage, journey, A 77. 
vigilyes, vigils, morning service ; here, 

festivities held on the eve of the 

gild day, A 377. 
vileinye, low, common, especially 

lewd conduct or talk; ill-breeding, 

rudeness, A 726. 
vitaille, victuals, A 248. 
Vulcanus, Vulcan, A 2222. 

wake-pleyes, A 2960 (^^^note). 

walwed, immersed, soused. To Rose- 
mounde, 17. 

wanhope, despair, A 1249. 

wantoun, heedless, wanton, A 208. 

war, prudent, A 309. 

warycen, cure, amend, C 906. 

wasshen (pt. wessK), wash, A 2283. 

waste, wasted, ruined, A 1331. 

wastel-bread, bread of the finest 
quality (not the inferior bread made 
from coarse flour, or other grains 
and lentils usually given to dogs and 
horses), A 147. 



Watte, Wat, nickname for Walter^ 

A 643. 
wawe, wave, A 1958. 
webbe, weaver, A 3621. 
wedde, pledge, pawn; to wedde^ in 

pledge, as security, A 1218. 
wele, wealth. Truth, 4. 
wele, weal, welfare, HF 684. 
welked, withered, C 738. 
wende (pret. wente, pp. went), wend, 

make one's way, A 16. 
were, doubt, HF 979. 
weren, guard, A 2550. 
weren (pt. wore, werede, pp. warn), 

wear, A 75. 
werken, work, do, Truth, 5. 
werre, war, A 47. 
werreyen, make war, A 1484. 
wessh, see wasshen. 
wexen (pret. wex, pp. woxe^i), grow, 

wax, A 1362. 
weye, way; space of time; atte beste 

weye, for the shortest time (at 

least), A 1 121. 
weymentinge, lamentation, A 902. 
what, what; as interjection, what 

then, why, lo, A 854. 
whelke, pimple, A 632. 
whelpe, whelp, small dog, puppy, A 

257. 
wher, whether, HF 586. 
which a, what a, A 2675. 
whippeltree, cornel, or dogwood, A 

2923. 
wight, weight, HF 739. 
wight, person, A 71. 
wikke, wicked, A 1580. 
wilnen, desire, wish, A 2564. 
wirchen, work, A 2759. 
witen (i prs. sing. pr. wot, 2 pr. woosi, 

wost, pi. witen, pt. wiste, pp. wist), 

know, expect, A 224. 
withholde {see holden), shut up, 

secluded, A 511. 
witing, knowledge, A 161 1. 



GLOSSARY 



213 



wol, wel (pr. ind. sing. i. wil^ woly 

2. wilty woli, wol, 3. wil, wol; pi. 

wilf woly wilfty woln ; pret. ind. 

wolde ; pr. subj. wile, wolle ; pret. 

subj. wolde ; pp. wold), will, wish, 

desire, A 27. 
wolde, see wol. 
wolle, wool, C 910. 
wonder, marvelous, A 2073. 
wone, wont, custom, A 335. 
wonen, dwell, A 388. 
woning, dwelling, A 606. 
wood, mad ; angry, A 184. 
woodly, madly, A 1301. 
woot, see witen. 

wortes, herbs, vegetables, B 441 1. 
worthy, excellent, of distinguished 

worth, of high repute, A 47. 
wost, see witen. 
wrecche, wretched, unfortunate, HF 

919. 
wreken, avenge, C 857. 
wympel, wimple, a covering for the 

neck and throat, A 151. 

yaf, see yeve. 
ybete, see beten. 
ybrent, see brennen, A 946. 
ycarve, see kerven. 



ychaped, capped, A 366. 

ye, eye, A 10. 

yeddinge, a song of the nature of a 

ballad, A 237. 
yeldhalle, guildhall, A 376. 
yelpen, boast, A 2238. 
yemanly, in a way befitting a thrifty 

yeoman, A 106. 
yerde, stick, rod, A 149. 
yerne, eagerly ; as yerne, very eagerly, 

HF 910. 
yeven (pt. yaf, pp. yeven), give, A 

225. 
yis, yes (in strong asseveration as 

compared with^^, yea), HF 706. 
ylad, see leden. 
ymeynd, mixed, A 2170. 
yore, formerly ; of yore agon, of long 

ago, A 1941. 
youling, wailing, A 1278. 
Ypocras, Hippocrates, A 431. 
Ypolita, Hippolyta, A 868. 
Ypres, Ypres, in Flanders, A 448. 
yronne, see rennen. 
ystorve, see sterven. 
ywroght, made, A 196. 
ywryen hid, covered, A 2904. 

Zephirus, Zephyr, the west wind, A 5. 



1 



MAY 6 1912 
















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